


Holding On

by Jacie



Category: NCIS, NCIS: New Orleans
Genre: Alternate Reality, Beaches, Big Bang Challenge, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explosions, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Loss, M/M, Memories, Memory Loss, Rescue, South America, Thanksgiving Dinner, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-20
Packaged: 2020-12-24 03:33:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 43,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21092702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jacie/pseuds/Jacie
Summary: The first explosion shattered Tony’s world. The second explosion allowed him to get away. Is three truly the charm or does it only make matters worse?Tony is distraught when Gibbs loses his memory. At first, Tony puts his full focus on work. After all, Gibbs baled on the team to join Mike Franks in Mexico. The team still needed a leader and with Gibbs gone, that role fell onto Tony’s shoulders. But then Gibbs returned. The only thing worse than Gibbs not remembering their relationship was Gibbs dating Hollis Mann. Tony can’t stand it and seeks a way to leave his past behind. However, just getting away isn’t enough. The past keeps troubling him. Even though he knows he should move on with his life, he simply can’t let go of his memories of the wonderful relationship he and Gibbs had. Can anything help him heal?





	1. Memories on the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Red Pink Dots for the amazing artwork and to Rose Malmaison for her fabulous beta work. 
> 
> Spoilers: General spoilers for the series, although this is an alternate take with a changed timeline.  
Warnings: Rape/Non-con, violence, language.  
Disclaimer: Don’t know them. It’s not true. I made it all up.
> 
> Notes  
– This story does not follow the canon timeline. I’ve mussed it around by removing Tony from the team when his Mustang explodes in S5 E1 (Sept 2007), and bringing other characters in earlier than they were added in the actual series. The timeline, actual characters and their responsibilities may have changed a bit.  
– There are sections that take place in Argentina and a few Spanish words here and there. I’ve also taken into account that an ESL may not speak perfect English, so the broken sentences are intentional. 
> 
> Spanish words used:  
Ahora: Now  
Amigos: Friends  
Bueno, muy bien: Good, very good  
Buenos días: Good Morning  
Caminar, ahora: Walk, now!  
Como estás?: How are you?  
Dinero: Money  
El baño, por favor : The bathroom, please  
El jefe: The boss  
Gracias: Thank you  
Hablas inglés?: Do you speak English?  
Hola: Hello  
Mi Americano: My American  
Mucho: A lot  
Retroceda ahora, por favor. ¡Espalda!: Back away now, please. Back!  
Río de la Plata: Silver River  
Señor: Sir or Mister
> 
> **This story was inspired by a song that was recorded by Ambrosia**: 
> 
> Song lyrics – _ Holdin' On to Yesterday_  
Songwriters: David Robert Pack / Joseph Puerta
> 
> Studio version on YouTube -  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4rPk6DIqOac  
"Official" live version on YouTube  
(Long intro - jump to 2:40 if you don't like intros) -  
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iemG6JGRMys 
> 
> Well I keep holdin' on to yesterday  
I keep holdin' on enough to say  
That I'm wrong  
I keep thinkin' that I'm lonely  
But it's only missing you inside  
Days that we were once together  
Seems they'll never come alive  
So I keep holdin' on to yesterday  
I keep holdin' on enough to say  
That it's wrong  
Lord I don't know when I'll see you  
I can't reach you anymore  
If I'd only known I'd need you  
Then I'd keep you like before  
I keep holdin' on to yesterday  
I keep holdin' on enough to say  
That I'm wrong, wrong, wrong To keep holdin' on  
My yesterdays have all gone by

_ March 2008, Buenos Aries, Argentina_

Standing on the beach alone, Tony looked out over the Río de la Plata as the remnants of a cascading wave flowed over his toes; cool water lapped against his skin as his memories flowed within and around him. 

There was a time he felt that he had everything he’d ever wanted. Then it was all taken away from him in the blink of an eye, with no notice. His heart had been shattered to pieces and left cold and empty. He shivered as he pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.

They’d had so many dreams together that would now never come true. A tear ran down his cheek and dropped into the water swirling around his feet. _ ‘How many other tears are lost in the world’s oceans?’_ he wondered. Did it matter? He knew he was holding onto his memories of a past that had left him in the dust. Grinding his toes into the sand at the edge of the gulf, he looked up at the dark, cloudy sky and imagined his dead past being cremated and placed into an urn. 

That’s what he needed to do. He needed to light a fire in his fireplace, burn all his memories, then scoop up the ashes and scatter them across the beach. The past didn’t want him anymore. He needed to stop holding on to his yesterdays. 

Tony pulled his keys out of his pocket and walked back to his red Mustang convertible. He rinsed off his feet and dried them with the towel he kept in his car. As it looked like rain, he put the top up. Not bothering to put on his sandals, he revved the engine of the vehicle and shifted into drive. 

He had to move on, no matter how much it hurt.

The skies turned as dark as his mood as he pulled away from the curb. Flipping on his windshield wipers, he brushed a tear away and hoped he could calm himself down. Inhaling deeply, he held his breath as long as he could, then released it slowly and repeated the process. When another wayward tear slipped down his cheek, he wiped it away quickly.

The Mustang handled well and he enjoyed driving it. He preferred driving on sunny days with the top down, but he was feeling raw and vulnerable now. All he wanted to do was to shrink away from existence and hide in a small, dark hole where he could wallow in his pain and suffering. But he couldn’t do that. He still had a job to do. 

He sniffled as his thoughts turned back to that one day, years ago, when his heart was ripped to shreds. Leaning forward slightly, he turned on the radio, just in time to hear Led Zepplin’s Robert Plant belting out _Good Times, Bad Times_. There were a lot of good times, before the bad times took over. He took another deep breath and released it slowly. Maybe if he couldn’t let go of all his memories, he could let go of the heartbreak and just remember the good times… 

Once he was back at his apartment, he took out his laptop, determined to save his memories from the time before his life was turned upside-down. They came to him vividly, in every detail. He would type them all in, then maybe would print them out and burn them. Perhaps that act would give him some closure so he could finally move on. With a glass of red wine close at hand, the memories came rolling through his mind so clearly…

*********

The first time he spent the night at Gibbs’ house was shortly after he’d started with NCIS. He’d had to take a crappy apartment and the heat had gone out during a blizzard. Tony only knew one person in DC at the time.

Reaching for his cell phone, he’d nervously made the call.

“_Gibbs._”

Tony hesitated.

“_Gibbs. Who is this?_” demanded the voice on the other end of the phone.

“It’s me, Boss. Tony.”

“_We get a case?_”

“No. I hate to ask, but…”

“_Spit it out, DiNozzo, or hang up and let me get back to work._”

“Work? Are you at the office?”

“_I’m building a boat._”

“Okay.” Tony’s heart was racing as the next few words tumbled from his lips in rapid succession. “The furnace in my building is out. I can’t stay here and all the hotels are booked. It’s your place or the office floor. I figured you have better coffee.”

“_The door is open,_” Gibbs said unemotionally before hanging up.

Tony stared at his cell phone for several seconds. “I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” he muttered to himself. Reaching into his closet, he pulled out his garment bag, suitcase and a backpack. As he had no idea how long it would take to get the heat back on, he packed three suits, five dress shirts, six ties, two pairs of jeans, three sweaters, two pairs of shoes, and his personal items. After zipping up the bags, he headed to his vehicle.

As he loaded up his car, he realized he didn’t have Gibbs’ address with him, so he called Gibbs back as he warmed up his car. “Boss? Can you give me an address, please?”

Gibbs growled out his address, and a few directions, before abruptly hanging up again.

Shaking his head, Tony wondered if he could ever teach Gibbs to say a proper goodbye before he hung up. Probably not. His new boss was a man of few words, who liked being in charge and didn’t care much about ceremony or niceties. Tony wondered if Gibbs was just crankier than normal due to his recent divorce, or if this was his usual state.

Traffic was slow as heavy snow drifted downward, swirling around as cold wind howled, whipping through the leafless trees. The blustering snow reduced visibility. Tony stopped at a gas station to fill his tank and grab a cup of hot chocolate, which promptly burned his tongue. “Fire and ice,” he muttered before blowing across the brown liquid, attempting to cool it. 

On a whim, he held the cup outside his window, allowing snowflakes to land and melt. Even if it didn’t cool down his beverage, it was kind of fun to watch. After a couple of minutes, he deduced it was too cold to leave the window open and he really needed to get to Gibbs’ house where he could be warm again. After putting the lid back on, he stuck the cup in his cup holder, rolled up the window, shifted his car into drive and continued on his journey.

It took him nearly forty-five minutes to get to Gibbs’ house, including his stop. With the snow flurries swirling around in the darkness, he was having trouble seeing the house numbers, but spotted Gibbs’ pickup truck in a driveway. There was just enough room for his car, so he pulled in and parked behind the truck. 

The porch light was on. When he tried the knob, he found that it was indeed unlocked. Leaning inside the door, he glanced around. There was a closet and a staircase across from the front door. To the left was a cozy living room, with the embers of a fire in the fireplace. The light was on in the dining room, so Tony shut the front door, put down his bags and walked further into the house.

“Gibbs?” he called softly as he sauntered through the living room. He eyed the books and magazines. “What are you into, Gibbs?” he whispered as he scanned over the coffee table and bookshelf. “Guns, boatbuilding, woodworking, westerns and work files. Interesting.”

“DiNozzo! I’m in the basement.”

Tony turned in the direction the voice came from and walked through the kitchen to the laundry room where he found the door to the basement. “What are you doing in the basement?” he asked loudly.

“Building a boat.”

As Tony walked down the stairs, he was surprised to see Gibbs sanding the frame of a hull. “That’s a boat,” he said. “A real boat.”

“You’re investigative skills are amazing. What was your first clue?”

“Um, you told me?”

Gibbs used the sleeve of his sweatshirt to wipe his forehead. “I hope I’m not going to have to spoon-feed you answers out in the field.”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t sir me,” snapped Gibbs. “I work for a living.”

“Right. I’m just a little…” Tony’s mind went blank as Gibbs glared at him.

“A little what?”

“Tired?”

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Telling you?”

“Are you sure?” asked Gibbs.

“I’ve just never been to your place before. It makes me a little nervous.”

“No need to be nervous, DiNozzo. I have plenty of room. Make yourself at home.”

“Where did you learn how to build boats?” Tony asked as he walked around the frame, running his hand along a beam until his finger caught a splinter. “Ouch!” he exclaimed as he quickly pulled back his hand, and stared at his fingertip.

“Not all sanded yet. You can help if you want,” said Gibbs. “My dad taught me how to work with wood and build stuff when I was a kid.”

Holding up his finger, Tony said, “I got a splinter.”

Gibbs stopped his sanding and shook his head. “Get over here.”

As Tony held out his hand, Gibbs flipped out his knife. Tony quickly moved his hand behind his back. “What are you planning to do with that?”

“Stop being such a baby. Give me your damn hand.”

Tony gingerly offered his hand again. Gibbs held his finger tightly and used the tip of the knife to pick out the splinter, shaking his head again when Tony winced and gasped.

“Thanks, Boss. Do you have a Band-Aid around here somewhere?” Tony asked before slipping the fingertip into his mouth to help stop the bleeding.

“Seriously? It’s a splinter. Hard to believe you got more than a drop of blood from that.”

Removing his finger from his mouth, he studied it intently. “I don’t want it to get infected.”

“Can’t wait to see you take a bullet,” Gibbs muttered as he tossed a box of Band-Aids at Tony.

“You’re not going to shoot me, are you?”

“Not me. But the bad guys, they tend to shoot back,” Gibbs replied as he brushed the sawdust off the piece he was sanding.

“I hope I can still pull the trigger, if I need to,” said Tony as he stared at his injury.

Gibbs poured a couple of glasses of bourbon as Tony bandaged his wound. “Here, this will kill any infection.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works, Boss.”

“Drink enough and you won’t care.”

Tony downed the first glass and held it out for a refill. “As long as we’re not on call.” 

Gibbs smiled and refilled the glass. Tony sat near the workbench, sipping his bourbon as he watched Gibbs work.

After several minutes, Gibbs turned to him. “If you’re going to spend time down here, you might as well help.”

Holding up his bandaged finger, he said, “Injury.”

“If that’s going to stop you from doing anything, maybe I should reconsider having you on my team.”

“Hey, now.”

“Come on, I’ll show you.”

“So, your dad taught you all this. I guess you’re pretty close?”

Gibbs shrugged. “He’s my dad. I took some woodworking classes, too. Always eases my mind; reduces stress.” 

“So, this is your happy place?” Tony asked.

“I guess you could say that.”

“You’re an interesting guy, Boss. I’m looking forward to getting to know you better.”

The comment earned Tony a glare. Eventually, Gibbs nodded him over, and handed him a pair of goggles, then began showing Tony how to sand with the grain, in slow, smooth strokes. Tony could feel the heat teasing his cock as Gibbs put his hand over his own, guiding their hands together across the wood. A warm sensation flowed within him as Gibbs’ chest pressed against his back and their arms moved as one.

They worked for a couple of hours, with Gibbs often taking a break to review the blueprints and sip more bourbon. Then he suddenly looked over to Tony and asked, “You hungry?”

“Sure, I could eat.” In truth, he was starving, but had been too embarrassed to ask for food earlier. He wished he’d stopped and picked up a pizza on the way. “I’ll grab a pizza for tomorrow night if you want,” he said as he followed Gibbs upstairs. To his surprise, Gibbs went into the living room and stoked the embers in the fireplace before adding on another piece of wood. “This is nice. I wish I had a fireplace in my apartment; might have kept me warm. Maybe I’ll have one in my next apartment. I enjoy watching the flickering flames.” He cut himself short of saying he liked the romantic ambiance. 

Gibbs looked up at him, studying him, but said nothing as he placed a grate over the flames and headed toward the kitchen. Tony followed after him and watched as he took a marinated steak from the refrigerator. Gibbs then opened a beer bottle and splashed a little brew over the steak before carrying it out to the living room, with Tony trailing after him like a puppy. 

“Really?” Tony asked. “You cook dinner in your fireplace?”

“Yep,” Gibbs replied as he settled the steak on the grate above the flames. Making another quick trip to the kitchen, he returned with a pot of beans and settled it on the grate near the steak. “Cowboy style,” he said simply. “Food tastes better cooked over an open flame. Go ahead and turn on the TV if you want to.” After another trip to the kitchen, he returned with plates and silverware, which he set down on the coffee table.

“That smells amazing,” Tony said as Gibbs flipped the steak and stirred the beans.

A few minutes later, Gibbs pulled the steak from the grate, cut it in half and split it between two plates. Using a potholder, he retrieved the beans and split those up between the two plates, as well. 

Without bothering to ask, he pulled two bottles of beer from the refrigerator, opened them both and handed one to Tony. 

“Thanks, Boss.”

“You don’t have to call me _Boss_ at the house.” Taking hold of the remote, Gibbs settled on a western as they sat down to eat.

Tony nodded as he cut a small piece of meat and chewed it slowly. “Wow, this is really good; seasoned to perfection.”

“Thanks,” Gibbs replied without looking at Tony. His eyes were focused intently on the screen, watching John Wayne in _Rooster Cogburn_. 

“Are you a fan of John Wayne?” Tony asked as the movie played on.

“Who isn’t?”

When they finished eating, the pair left their plates on the coffee table and leaned back on the couch, watching the rest of the movie in silence. Tony ran all sorts of movie data through his mind, but decided not to share the information verbally, as Gibbs appeared to prefer watching the movie without interruption.

The moment it ended, Tony spouted out, “I’ll wash up,” as he collected the plates and silverware on his way to the kitchen. 

Gibbs smiled then followed after him, bringing the empty beer bottles to recycle. “You wash, I’ll dry.”

After the dishes were done and put away, Tony followed Gibbs upstairs and watched as he pulled out some linens and a blanket and tossed them onto an unmade bed. “I trust you know how to make a bed,” he said as he walked away. 

Tony set his bags down and called out, “Sure, Boss. I mean, Gibbs. I got this.”

“Good night, Tony.”

Tony woke up suddenly in the middle of the night, and brought his fingers to his lips. “That was weird,” he whispered into the night air. He’d had a vivid dream that had included Gibbs kissing him rather passionately in the basement. The memory of the dream left a smile on his face as he reached for his cock, stroking it as he focused on Gibbs. 

From the way he felt that first night he spent in Gibbs’ house, Tony was sure they belonged together.

*********

Even in writing out the memory, it brought a smile to Tony’s face. That evening was the beginning of their long romance that soon after became passionate nights filled with kissing and eventually a sexual relationship that still made him smile. If only he could live inside his dreams, then things would be as they were, once more. 


	2. Chatting on the Balcony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aliases used:   
Clive Paddington, Jr. = Tony DiNozzo’s undercover alias  
Riley Clayton = Clayton Reeves’ undercover alias  
Miguel Lorenza = Nick Torres’ undercover alias  
Randy Alvarez = Chris LaSalle’s undercover alias – as a contact  
Lonnie Veracruz = Leon Vance’s undercover alias – as a contact  
Ken “King” Pearson = Duane Pride’s undercover alias

_April 2008_

Working deep undercover as a travel writer, Tony was now living in Buenos Aries, Argentina, with two female cats, Bella and Maya. Bella was black and white, while Maya was a brown tabby. Tony didn’t know their ages as they came with the apartment. The previous tenant was an elderly woman who had passed away in her sleep. Her relatives had cleared the apartment, but left the cats behind. The cats turned out to be low maintenance and good companions. The manager noted they were both good mousers, which was not a bad thing to have. The apartment was on the third floor, and had a balcony. Tony would often sit out on the balcony with the two cats, his laptop, and a bottle of beer or glass of wine. He was fortunate to have a nice view of the beach, and enjoyed the days where sunshine or moonlight reflected across the water.

A loud knock startled him. Setting down his beer, he rose to answer the door. “Hey Riley,” he said in a faux British accent, upon seeing the nicely dressed black man on his doorstep. “Love the suit. Please, do come in,” he offered as he stepped aside for his undercover contact. “Can I buy you a beer, stranger?”

“Come on, mate. You know I don’t drink that stuff. But I’ll take a cup of tea if you have one to spare,” Clayton Reeves said in a recognizable Cockney accent as he entered the apartment.

“Will iced tea do?” Tony smiled as he reached into his refrigerator for a pitcher of tea, then grabbed a bottle of Malbec wine for himself. “Mind grabbing a couple of glasses?” he asked.

His visitor obliged, grabbing two glasses before following Tony out to the balcony. After placing the glasses on the small, metal table, he took a seat, then leaned over to scratch Bella. “Missed you at the bar last night.”

Before taking his seat, Tony turned on his radio, with the intention of drowning out their voices in case anyone was trying to listen in. “Sorry about that. I spent some time on the beach, then went driving around in the rain. Had some stuff to think about. Did I miss anything interesting?”

Reeves reached into his pocket and dropped a photo onto the table in front of Tony. “New player on the scene. Do you recognize him?”

The photo was crisp, with no bends or tears. It was recently printed. Tony made a point to lift it to his nose and sniff. “Just like fresh money, you can smell a new photo, Clayton.”

“Going all surname on me, eh?”

Tony smirked. They were both undercover and both knew each other’s true identities. Clay used his given name as his alias’ surname, Riley Clayton. Tony had gone a different way, opting to use Clive Paddington as his undercover alias. Being his uncle’s name, it was easy for him to remember. Tony studied the handsome Hispanic male in the photo. “I don’t know him,” he said tossing the photo back onto the table. “What’s his game?”

Clayton leaned closer and whispered, “He introduced himself as Miguel Lorenza.”

“But it’s an alias?”

“A lot of that going around. I snapped the shot and sent it to MI6. They ran it through face recognition and got a hit.”

“Really?” Tony asked as he reached for his beer. “Bad guy?”

“Unknown at this point. My intel only had a name, not a case. It’s not like I asked what he was up to. The thing is, he’s deep undercover for NCIS. I thought you might know him.”

Grabbing the photo again, Tony took a longer look at it, then shook his head. “I don’t. Never saw him before. Who is he?”

“Read this,” said Clay as he scribbled onto a small note pad, tore out the page and handed it to Tony. 

Tony read the words, _Nicholas “Nick” Torres, undercover at Global Enforcement Academy as a student/officer_, then nodded and lit the candle on the table, using it to burn the scrap of paper. It was one of the security precautions they took while working undercover. “Doesn’t ring a bell. Was he alone?”

“He was hanging out with David Silva, son of Leo Silva, who is thought to be one very bad dude. Unfortunately, he keeps himself clean. No one can get a bloody thing on him. This Lorenza character is in deep. I thought we could make contact if we could get him completely alone; see what his game is.”

“Risky business.”

Clay smiled and sipped his tea. “I played a few games of pool with him; chatted a bit. He’s okay. He’s careful, likes to sit with his back against the wall and keeps very alert to what is going on around him.”

“Do you think we can trust him? Or could he be turned?”

“Don’t know. Maybe we get to know him a little better. He could be investigating Silva.”

“Maybe it’s best we don’t get too close. For all of us,” Tony suggested. “If any bad guys catch wind that any one of us is undercover, that puts us all in danger, potentially.” Shaking his head he added, “We don’t let him know we’re undercover unless absolutely necessary. We can watch his ass and protect him, but he doesn’t need to know who we play for.”

“Right. But if he points a gun at me, I may have to come clean.” Pausing, Clayton sipped his tea again and looked out over the gulf. “What were you thinking about on the beach?”

“Same thing, different day. I keep holding on to my yesterdays,” staring at the wine in his glass, he shrugged and shook his head. “I’m haunted by what I had that I can’t have anymore. It breaks my heart.”

“You could have stayed and maybe he would have come around.”

Tony sighed deeply. “It hurt looking into his eyes, seeing the emptiness, no recognition; knowing that he didn’t even know who I was or what we meant to each other before the explosion. It’s like one of those horror films where he’s  
been sucked out of his body, and only this empty shell was left behind. I couldn’t stay. Getting away was the best option.”

“And getting your car blown up was an easy out.”

“Yeah. As long as no one who knows what really happened lets Gibbs know the truth, it’s all good. I don’t need him digging around. I don’t want to ruin this new version of his life.” Shifting in his seat, Tony stretched out his legs.

Clay looked him directly in the eyes, studying him a few moments before speaking. “What if you are the best thing for him?”

Slamming his fist onto the table, Tony raised his voice. “He doesn’t remember me. What else could I do?” Taking a deep breath served to calm him down. “When he came back from Mexico, he started dating again; a woman named Hollis Mann. He seemed happy. I had to leave.”

“Maybe all you needed was another explosion to bring him back to his senses? It’s amazing you pulled off such an elaborate disappearing act in the midst of that mess.”

As his eyes searched the horizon, Tony’s thoughts returned to the past.

Clay leaned closer. “You never want to talk about it, but you should. It may clear your head to get it off your chest. I’m here, mate. I’m listening.”

A grin slowly crossed Tony’s countenance. “You sound like Fraiser Crane.”

“Who the bloody hell is that?”

“It’s an old television series about a radio shrink. Good show.”

Clayton refilled their glasses, then leaned back in his chair. “Tell me about the explosions.”

Silence stood between them for a few minutes, then Tony finally nodded agreeably. “The first, Gibbs had a scheduled meet with an undercover agent aboard a ship. The guy ran, Gibbs chased him. He caught up to his contact in a laundry room. Then there was an explosion, which was quite definitely not in our plans.”

“Were you there with him?”

“No. I was outside, in the surveillance vehicle with two others, Tim and Ziva. We were his backup, but weren’t expecting any problems. Then that happened. Gibbs was in a coma for days. When he woke up, he had no idea who I was. It was horrible. I kept hoping his memories would come back, but they didn’t. Then he decided to leave.”

“He just left?” Clay asked.

“Yeah. He left. He spent some time on a beach in Baja Mexico, with an old friend, former agent Mike Franks. When Gibbs came back, I was on an undercover op dating a woman, the daughter of a weapons dealer. That’s when my car was blown up. I wasn’t in it.”

“Obviously.”

“I was in a limo with Jeanne and her father. We saw my car explode behind us. Saw it. Felt it. Smelled it. Terrible. Turned out an undercover CIA agent had blown my cover weeks earlier. The father knew exactly who I was, thanks to Trent Kort. Bastard. Jeanne didn’t take it well. She went one way, her father made some calls and left. I was standing there alone. And I thought, I can’t stay at NCIS. Not with Gibbs back like that, not knowing what we’d had together before, and that it was gone forever. And my car had just been blown up. No one could have survived it. An idea just clicked.”

Clayton’s eyes showed concern. “You never went back to the office?”

“I checked into a cheap motel for cash, no questions. Later in the day, I called the director and asked her to keep it a secret. I presented a scenario that if she put it out there that I had died in the explosion, then I could be a very useful undercover agent. I had no reason to stay in DC. I wanted to leave. She made it happen.”

“Who died in the car?”

“Some hired hand of Jeanne’s father. He was burned too badly to recognize, but had a similar height and build to me. The director had to get our M.E. on board. They met me at the motel where he took some DNA samples from me, then gave them to our forensic scientist, saying they were from the burned body. She ran the tests and confirmed the DNA was mine. I kept out of sight for a few days, dyed my hair darker and stopped shaving. The director returned with a backstopped undercover alias for one Clive Paddington, Jr. from England, along with a passport and other documents.”

“And she called MI6 to see if they could use someone undercover down here. I appreciate the help, honestly. It’s nice to know you have my back.”

“And I appreciate the warm weather and sunny days,” Tony said as he raised his glass. “And the cats, of course.”

“Tell me about your relationship with Gibbs.”

“We clicked. We were an amazing team at work, and at home, too. It felt so good, so natural, for us to be together. Until we weren’t.”

Reaching across the table, Clayton patted Tony’s hand. “I don’t think you should give up. His memories could come back. Or, you could start new memories together.”

After a deep sigh, Tony shook his head. “He remembered his first wife, and thought they were still married. He was devastated all over again to learn she was dead, along with their only child. That’s why he went to Mexico, to grieve their loss. Again.”

“I’m sorry you both had to go through that. But how do you know he will never remember what you had? What if he’s back there, and the memories have returned? You would never know.”

“Yeah, I would. I keep in touch with two people in the States. I can reach out to the director if I need to. She sends coded letters under an assumed name and no return address. I also keep in touch with a friend. He’s going to come to Argentina for a visit next month. I just told him he needs to have his own undercover alias if he’s going to see me. I can’t risk him being linked back to the agency. The director agreed to hook him up as my contact.”

“He’s NCIS, too, then?”

Tony nodded. “From our New Orleans office. He and I hit it off when Gibbs and I were down there visiting. His boss is tight with Gibbs and we know they keep in touch. They were probies at the same time. He’d know if there were any changes.” 

“Can’t wait to meet him.”

Rising to his feet, Tony said, “I can’t wait to meet your new friend, Miguel. I’m starving. Let’s leave the cats to their napping and go grab a bite to eat.”

“Sounds good to me. It’s your turn to pay, amigo.”

“What? It’s your mission, which makes you the boss, and where I come from, the boss always picks up the dinner checks.”

Clayton patted Tony on the back as they went inside the apartment and returned the glasses to the kitchen. “Things are different down here.”

The pair strolled down the street a few blocks to a restaurant they favored. It served an excellent steak that they both enjoyed. It also featured several non-alcoholic fruit drinks, which Clay enjoyed, as he was a recovering alcoholic who was tired of drinking Coca Cola all the time. They opted for a table that overlooked a beach.

*********

Clayton had his own apartment, which was a few blocks away. It was larger than Tony’s and had a spare room, but he often hosted other MI6 agents visiting the area. While he didn’t mind working with Clayton, Tony preferred his solitude most of the time. His thoughts were still in turmoil and he would rather work through his issues on his own, without a roommate hanging around all the time.

As a team, they bonded well enough. The trust was there, but Tony hated seeing the constant worry clouding Clay’s eyes no matter how often Tony assured him he was fine. He still wasn’t over losing Gibbs, and they were both painfully aware of that fact.


	3. News From DC

_Late May 2008_

Tony and Clay were known around town as friends, and spent a lot of time together. While Tony’s undercover was a travel writer, Clayton’s undercover dealt with airplanes. He reportedly worked for a company that bought, sold, leased, rented, repossessed, repaired, and maintained airplanes. He’d even gone to the trouble of getting a pilot’s license and was able to fly smaller craft on his own. As a reason for the two to spend a lot of time together, Tony also posed as Clayton’s assistant. The pair usually took a weekly flight so Clayton could practice handling a craft in the air, and also so they could talk privately. 

After one flight, they touched down, parked the craft and headed for Tony’s red Mustang. It wasn’t unusual for them to go to Tony’s apartment after a flight, and relax on the balcony. 

On a beautiful, sunny day in May, Tony suddenly froze when they entered his apartment. He motioned for Clayton to remain quiet, as he walked stealthily across the room. A breeze blew, fluttering through the curtains that covered the balcony’s open sliding glass door that Tony knew he had left securely locked. Drawing his weapon, he cautiously looked out to the balcony, where he saw a man relaxing in the sunshine with Bella and Maya.

“Nice place,” the man said with a southern accent. He raised his beer bottle to his lips without bothering to turn around.

Tony quickly holstered his weapon and flipped on the radio. “What are you doing here? I didn’t get any message…”

“Stop,” the man said as he turned to eye Clayton up and down. “This your friend?”

Tony’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he lowered his voice. “He’s a contact. We work together. Riley Clayton.” Nodding to the other man, he introduced him as well, “Randy Alvarez, friend from college.”

“Is that a front?” Clayton asked softly. 

Tony took a seat, and motioned for Clay to sit as well. “My buddy from the New Orleans office, Chris LaSalle.”

Chris raised a beer bottle to his lips again, drank and swallowed, then nodded to Clay. “Is he cleared? Can we talk?”

“Yes, it’s fine. He’s my MI6 contact,” replied Tony. “Just keep your voice low. We never know who is around. The balcony is clear, and the radio masks our voices. It’s safe.”

“Why don’t you grab yourself a drink? You’re going to want one when you hear what I have to say.”

Tony left briefly, quickly returning with a beer for himself and a glass of lemonade for Clay. “What’s going on?”

“You know it’s not my style to beat around the bush. Do you know who Leon Vance is?”

Tony nodded. “Assistant Director, over the LA office.” Turning to Clay, he added, “LA meaning Los Angeles, California.”

Clay shrugged. “What else?”

“LA is also the abbreviation for Louisiana, where the New Orleans office is. What’s going on with Vance?”

“Well, he’s now Director Vance. I’m here on his orders.”

“What happened to Jenny? Did she resign?”

Chris took another long drink, sighed heavily, then looked Tony in the eyes. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news. Director Shepard is dead.”

Tony stood up quickly, knocking over his chair in the process. “Dead? What the hell happened?”

“Not sure yet. It’s under investigation. She was out in California for the funeral of a friend, a former agent. They found her in a diner he owned, miles away from town, out in the desert. She was shot dead, along with four assailants.”

“Wow. I just can’t believe it. Didn’t she have a security detail? Was anyone else hurt? Do they know who the shooters were?”

“All I know is that she was on her own when she got caught up in one old-fashioned shootout with new-fangled firearms. Looks like she took them out, and then died of her wounds; bled out.”

“Gibbs?”

“Not there. Not involved.”

Tony released a long sigh. “I’m glad he’s okay.”

“I know you still care for the man. Just for the record, Hollis Mann is out of the picture. Thought you’d want to know.”

“Really?”

Chris nodded. “Gibbs told Pride that she gave him an ultimatum. She was ready to get married and settle down. He wasn’t. She retired and moved to Hawaii, leaving him behind.”

Clayton set his lemonade down as he looked between Tony and Chris. “This is good news about Gibbs, right?”

Shaking his head, Tony said, “I don’t know. I can’t believe Jenny is dead.”

Chris leaned forward. “Vance was reviewing the undercover agents since they’re so highly classified. Apparently, only three people were aware that you’re still alive and down here undercover. And one of them is dead. Vance wanted to reach out. He wanted to make sure you knew there was a new director. He’s reviewing your mission.”

Tony nodded slowly. He sent in monthly reports disguised as travel articles, including both text and photos. He and Jenny had a code in place so she could decipher his reports. If his NCIS file included the information that Chris had a backstopped alias to use to visit him, then it also surely included the code they used for the reports. “Is he pulling me back in?”

“Didn’t say. He just sent me to let you know about Director Shepard. And that he is now your contact. Other than me.”

“And you have to report back to him?”

“Of course. I was told to find you and make sure you’re okay. You’re not the only undercover agent out there. He’s getting in touch with everyone. That in itself is a huge undertaking. I can’t imagine he’s pulling anyone back any time soon. He has a lot on his hands right now.”

“I’m sure he does. I didn’t hear anything on the news. I’d think the director of NCIS being killed in a shootout would make headlines.”

“It’s all highly classified and hush-hush. They shipped her body back to DC, to Ducky, then burned her residence with a body inside. Ducky ID’d it as Director Shepard.”

“But it wasn’t?” 

Chris shook his head. “Way beyond my pay grade. But that’s the story they put out, that she died in an accidental fire at her residence.”

Tony leaned forward with his head in his hands. “Hard to believe.”

“Again, I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news. I know she pulled some strings to have the records show you as deceased.”

“It’s fine. I mean, it sucks, but nothing I can do about it. How long are you staying?”

“Not long. I have to report back sooner or later.”

“You can stay on the couch if you’d like.”

“I was counting on your hospitality, my friend.”

Over the next few days, Tony showed Chris around town, spending time at the beach and visiting several restaurants. They were sure to use their aliases, Clive and Randy, while they were out in public. In the evenings, they spent time at the bar, playing pool with Clayton. They noticed undercover agent Nick Torres was there with a friend, too. 

Tony nodded to Nick and asked Chris, “Are you familiar with this guy, Miguel Lorenza?”

Chris looked him over and shook his head. “Should I be?”

“Riley met him recently. We’re trying to decide if he’s a good guy or a bad guy. He is friends with David Silva.”

“Any relation to Leo Silva?” Chris asked.

“His son.”

“I can see why Riley is interested. There’s a whole beehive waiting to be tapped. Just better have a good mask on before you go poking around too much or you might get stung.”

They watched as two men entered and approached Clayton. They were British as well, asking to talk. Clayton smiled and said they could talk once they finished the game. A few minutes later, he returned his pool cue stick to the rack and left with the two men.

“You know them?” Chris asked as he lined up a shot.

“Not really. But Riley always has clients coming and going.”

“Understood.”

The pair played a few more games as they studied the people in the room. Eventually, they left and returned to Tony’s apartment.

“Do you need to check up on Riley?” Chris asked.

Tony turned on the radio to mask their voices. “Clay’s fine. I recognized the men. They’re MI6 contacts. They have a lot of agents coming and going, pretending to be clients. It has to at least look like he’s doing business. He has to look successful enough to afford those expensive suits he likes to wear. He found a great tailor in town.”

“He does look like one classy dude.”

“Do you know who took my place on Gibbs’ team?” 

“They hired in some FBI agent who used to be with NCIS. Pride said he was a probie with Gibbs before your time. Brent Langer.”

Tony shifted slightly in his seat. “I think I’ve heard the name before.” 

“What about you? How are you doing?”

“Me? I go out to restaurants, and tourist spots, and write up reviews. I always have a pad of paper with me. I snap pictures. Then I send stuff out, supposedly to my editor.”

“Interesting. A travel writer who doesn’t travel.”

“Yeah, and I pretend to be British, and yet I mail my articles off to DC. To a PO box, of course.”

“Of course.”

“And my college mate is obviously from the south.”

Chris smiled. “Hey now, it’s not my fault I can’t pull off a British accent. They could have sent Ducky. He could have pretended to be your dad or uncle or something.”

Tony smiled. “I do miss Ducky. I don’t envy the position he’s in.”

“What’s that?” 

“They all think I’m dead; the whole team. They’re investigators. If I ever show back up at HQ, the team is going to know that Abby or Ducky was in on the cover-up.” 

“He’s doing his job, following orders.”

“I guess.”

“It’s not right to hold something against someone who is following orders. How are you holding up, really?” Chris asked, staring intently at Tony.

“There is not a day that goes by that I don’t miss Gibbs.”

“Do you want to go back?”

“I want to go back to a time that he remembers me. And that is impossible.”

It wasn’t long before Chris had to return to New Orleans, leaving Tony on his own again. At least he had the cats for company.

*********

The isolated beach had become Tony’s solace; a place where he liked to hang out and think about things. Leaving his shoes behind, he walked across the beach to the water’s edge, allowing the waves to lap around his toes.

Chris’ words crashed through his mind, like a tidal wave. How could Jenny be dead? Tony wanted the details. While Tony wanted to reach out, he knew he couldn’t, not without the possibility of the message being intercepted. Chris had shared what he knew, which wasn’t much. 

Chris had divulged that Pride indicated that Tim and Ziva were on the director’s security detail. Where were they when Jenny was shot? Were they involved? Chris didn’t know. There was no one Tony could ask. He’d met Vance a couple of times, but wasn’t sure if the man would even remember who he was. 

And the news that Hollis Mann was out of Gibbs’ life warmed his heart a little. It gave him hope. But not much. Chris gave no indication that Gibbs remembered their relationship, or had even ever asked or spoken about him. He had no reason to ask about Tony, as he thought he was dead. He had moved on. 

A tear rolled down Tony’s cheek. Jenny told him there was a funeral held after he was supposedly blown up; a closed casket affair. Gibbs had attended, as did Ducky, Jimmy, Abby, Tim and Ziva. Only Ducky and Jenny knew the coffin was empty. Perhaps it was weighted with something, or maybe they’d buried Rene’s driver in his place. Tony didn’t know and didn’t care. Although, he wished he knew what Gibbs felt.

Did Gibbs mourn an agent he could barely remember? Or had he attended the funeral because he was expected to? Maybe he’d tuned out the entire service, and thought about building another boat instead.

As Tony’s eyes fell across the water, he imagined him and Gibbs on a sailboat, laughing and happy. Then he shook his head vigorously, trying to shake the memories. There was no more laughter, no more happiness. He’d turned into a sad sack wallowing in a past he couldn’t return to. Dropping his head down, he allowed the tears to flow. 

Later, he returned to his apartment and drank a full bottle of wine, then locked the balcony door and went to bed. The cats followed him into the bedroom and kept him company.

The next day, he picked up Clayton and drove out to the airport. With Clay at the controls, they took off for a two-hour flight over the ocean and back. Tony was quiet at first.

“At least that woman is out of his life,” Clayton said eventually.

“He could be dating someone else,” Tony snapped sharply.

“Or his memories of you could be returning.”

“Doesn’t matter. Whether he remembers anything about me or not, he thinks I’m dead. He went to the funeral. He’s moved on. I have to face it. What we had is dead. I have to move on, too.”

“I’m sorry. Really, I am.”

“Why?”

Clayton fell quiet for a few minutes as he focused on the horizon. Eventually, he sighed heavily, then spoke. “I know what it’s like to not have someone.”

“You lost someone, too?”

“My mother. I was young. Orphaned. I don’t have a family. I don’t have anyone. It makes sense for me to do these high-risk and long-term ops. I have no one I’m leaving behind. There’s no one who cares if I get killed on a dangerous op.”

“What do you mean? Surely you have friends from school or work or something.”

Clayton shook his head. “I’ve lost track of how many foster homes I was moved to. No one wanted me. I had no one. I just had a giant chip on my shoulder. I’ve always felt…expendable.” 

“Shit. I’m your friend, Clay. Really. At least we have each other.”

“Yeah, there is that. You do make things a bit more bearable.”

Tony smiled weakly. “Yeah, you too. And the cats.”


	4. The Box in the Closet

_Early June 2008_

Glancing across the bullpen, Gibbs watched as Brent Langer was busy reading through a file. His senior field agent was off the hook for now. Then he turned and glared at Ziva. As much as she and Jen purported to be friends, she didn’t seem all that broken up that Jenny was dead. At least Tim looked remorseful and sad. It was a mistake to send them as Jenny’s escort. He should have gone himself, as he’d worked with Decker, too, but it was Jenny who said he needed to stay at the Navy Yard and ensure everything ran smoothly in her absence.

Gibbs was extremely disappointed that his team had dropped the ball and the director they were assigned to protect had been killed on their watch. It wasn’t a surprise when Vance called them up to his office to _explain_ what had happened, insisting that Tim and Ziva stand up while he paced the room with a toothpick clenched between his teeth. Gibbs stood back a few feet, silently. He had no intention of even trying to defend their actions in this case. Their actions were inexcusable, and now Jenny was dead.

After a minute, Vance finally spoke, anger tinting his tone. “The two of you were on security detail. While you were out sightseeing, the director that you were charged with protecting was killed; murdered in a shootout while you were miles away. Do you have anything to say for yourselves? How the hell did you let this happen?”

Tim’s eyes were dropped to the floor while Ziva defiantly glared right back at Vance. 

“She ordered us to stand down,” Ziva began. “We were following orders. With that said, we did call her. She said she was fine. We then pinged her phone. Well, McGee pinged her phone. We went to check on her, but arrived too late to help.”

“Give me a reason not to bench the two of you, permanently,” Vance demanded. 

“We were following her orders,” Ziva nearly shouted.

Vance stopped directly in front of McGee, too close for comfort. “What about you, Agent McGee? Nothing to say?”

“We were following her orders,” he nearly whispered. “Director Shepard gave us the day off. Then Ziva had a bad feeling and we did call. The director said she was fine and to do some sightseeing before she assigned us to help the LA office with their cases. She wanted us to stay away.”

“Why?”

“I really don’t know. After we found Sasha Gordon murdered on a beach just a few yards from the director’s rental, we knew we had to find Director Shepard immediately, even though she was insisting she was okay. I pinged her cell phone and we tracked her down to the diner out in the desert that was owned by deceased agent William Decker. Like Ziva said, we got there too late. Just by minutes. The smell of gunfire was still in the air. There was nothing we could do.” Tim sniffled and added, “Director Shepard was already dead when we arrived.”

“I still have a problem with the two of you not performing your duty. I have made some decisions. Officer David, I have decided to eliminate the liaison position. You’re going back to Israel, immediately. McGee, I’m moving you to the cybercrimes unit. I’m not convinced that you’re ready for fieldwork. I heard you’re good with computers. Let’s see if cybercrimes is a better fit for you.”

Tim continued staring at his shoes, and even blushed. It was considered a lateral move, but it felt like a demotion and failure on his part. He hated failing at anything. 

Ziva remained silent. She knew she couldn’t talk Vance out of the decision he had already made, most likely before they ever set foot inside his office. Perhaps she could call her father later and he could smooth things over with Vance. She’d come to enjoy living in the United States and really didn’t want to return to Israel. If she ever did go back, she wanted it to be on her own terms, not someone else’s.

Returning to his desk, Vance picked up a couple of files and handed them to Gibbs. “These are your replacements.”

“So I get to keep Langer?”

“For now. You’re all dismissed. Officer David, you have one hour to clear out your desk, then you will be escorted to your vehicle. As of now, your clearances with NCIS have been revoked. Agent McGee, you have an hour and a half to move your computer and belongings down to the cybercrimes unit. I don’t want to see you hanging around the bullpen after that. Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Tim replied meekly.

Gibbs tucked the two files under his arm and headed for the door. Down in the bullpen, Langer looked up, watching the trio descend the stairs. Gibbs dropped the two files on Langer’s desk. 

“Study up on those two. I’m going for coffee.”

Langer reached for the top file. “New cases, Boss?” 

“New team. Put the files on my desk after you’ve reviewed them, along with your assessments.”

Ziva left for a few minutes and returned with a couple of empty boxes. She gave one to McGee and then began rummaging through her desk drawers.

“What the hell happened?” Langer asked as he watched them clearing their desks.

Ziva continued packing as she spoke. “The new director was not pleased with how we handled our last assignment. I am being sent back to Israel and McGee has been moved to the geek squad.”

“Cybercrimes unit,” Tim said quickly as he placed his things into the box.

Langer scanned over the two files Gibbs had dropped on his desk. “Michelle Lee, from the legal department. What the hell is she going to do in the field? Serve warrants? And Daniel Keating. From the cybercrimes unit. Just great.” He slammed the files back onto his desk and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Neither of them have any field experience whatsoever. Damn. I should have stayed with the FBI. Who’s going to watch my six?”

Tim paused long enough to spit out, “Gibbs.”

An hour later, Vance reappeared, looking over the railing as two agents approached Ziva’s desk and advised her they were there to escort her from the premises. She glanced up at Vance who only glared back at her. “This was not my fault,” she muttered as she picked up her go-bag and a box of things from the desk, then preceded her escort to the elevator. 

Langer sat at his desk with his head in his hands. “Surreal. Think we’ll cross paths with her again?” he asked once Ziva was out of sight.

“I have no idea,” replied Tim. “I don’t think she’s happy that Vance is sending her back to Israel. I’m not happy that he’s sending me to the basement. We failed and we have to face that. Director Shepard is dead because we didn’t insist on being with her.” 

“Maybe she knew something,” offered Langer.

“Like what?”

“Maybe she got tipped off. Maybe she knew what was coming and didn’t want you there. Maybe she saved your lives by not getting you involved. You’re good McGee. You want Vance off your case? Figure out who killed her and why.”

Tim nodded and began thinking of what he could do down in cybercrimes. Maybe he could talk to Abby and they could figure it out together.

Another few minutes passed before a young man appeared next to Tim’s desk pushing a cart. “Agent Keating,” he announced. “I’ve been reassigned to Gibbs’ team. I was told this is my new desk,” he said. Nodding to the cart, he continued, “I’ll get my things off and you can use this to move your stuff down to cybercrimes.”

Tim stared at the cart, then at Keating. The kid was younger than Tim. While he was thankful for the use of a cart, he didn’t like having to interact with his replacement. “Fine.”

A couple of minutes later, Michelle Lee showed up, carrying a file box. “Where should I sit?”

Langer nodded to the desk that Ziva had recently vacated. “Make yourself at home. Once you two are settled, we’re going to hit the shooting range.”

“Shooting range, sir?” Michelle asked frantically.

“You both have to pass the range test before you can carry a weapon out in the field. As Gibbs’ senior field agent, it’s up to me to make sure you are both ready for duty. You’ll also need to have go-bags.”

The new pair both stared at him blankly. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes and went back to reading his email.

Gibbs eventually returned, carrying two cups of coffee, and went immediately to his desk. He neither looked at, nor spoke to, the other agents. He reviewed Keating and Lee’s files, then finally glanced over to them, watching them organize their desks. He’d also read over Langer’s notes about their newest team members. The senior field agent clearly thought they were both very green and possibly not the best choices for the MRCT. Looking in Langer’s direction, Gibbs announced, “I’ll be in Abby’s lab.” 

“Heard that, Boss,” acknowledged Langer, without looking up from his monitor.

Down in Abby’s lab, Gibbs immediately walked over to her side.

“Oh my God! Gibbs, what is wrong?”

“I didn’t say anything was wrong, Abs.”

“It’s written all over your face. What happened?”

Gibbs stepped closer and hugged her. “Director Vance made some decisions. He is sending Ziva back to Israel, to the Mossad. And he has reassigned McGee to the cybercrimes unit.”

Abby took a deep breath as her heart raced. “I can’t believe you have an all-new team.”

“Langer’s been around for almost a year.”

Pushing back from him, Abby wiped a tear away. “I still miss Tony. And Kate.”

“I know. The world moves on. Teams change. Agents Keating and Lee have been assigned to the team.”

Waving her hand in the air, she said, “I don’t even want to meet them. Because if I meet them, I’ll start caring about them, then one day, they’re going to be gone. Shot, or blown up, or reassigned, or whatever. And it will break my heart all over again.” Pausing for a moment, she stared up into his eyes. “My heart, Gibbs, it’s breaking. I just can’t take this anymore.” A moment later, she was wrapped in his strong embrace again, her head leaning against his chest as she sniffled.

*********

_October 2008_

It was a rough day. Gibbs had picked up Chinese carryout on his drive home, and ate it in front of his television. He’d flipped around the stations and stopped on a movie that had Marines in it. He didn’t remember watching the movie before, but it seemed familiar. Jack Nicholson played a gruff Colonel. 

“Directed by Rob Reiner, Meathead from _All in the Family_.” Gibbs froze the moment the words tumbled from his mouth. “Where the fuck did that come from? How do I know that?” He searched his mind, but failed to locate an answer. Moving on, he used his chopsticks to search for more beef in the box he held.

Once he’d picked out the final piece of rice, he dropped the box onto the coffee table, with the chopsticks still poking out of the top. “Tom Cruise,” he said aloud. “_A Few Good Men_.”

A few minutes later, another thought popped into his head. “Tony.” A memory appeared, the pair sitting on the couch watching this very movie and sharing a bowl of popcorn. “Huh.”

His eyes fell to the spot on the couch where Tony had sat that night. He could see the green eyes staring back and him, and that brilliant smile. “Tony,” he said again, as if repeating his name would bring back more memories. “Tony.”

A notion tugged at his heart. People always looked at him oddly whenever he mentioned Tony. He’d been told the man had been his senior field agent for a few years before his car had been blown up. They were never able to prove who had planted the explosive, but Gibbs’ gut said it was Trent Kort.

His senior field agent had been blown up. Did people blame him? Was there anything he could have done to prevent it? Was it Jenny’s fault? Jenny had sent DiNozzo on the undercover mission that ultimately took his life. At least she’d gotten her closure. La Grenouille had been found murdered before Jenny had been killed. A short chuckle escaped him as he wondered if the two met up in the afterlife. Then he shook his head to clear the thoughts because he really didn’t believe in the afterlife. Shannon and Kelly came to him in his dreams sometimes, but that was an entirely different thing. 

After the credits rolled, Gibbs turned off his television set and tossed the food container and chopsticks into the trash. It had been a long, troubling day. He knew the next few weeks weren’t going to be smooth sailing. Not with two very green probies on this team. What the hell was Vance thinking? Neither Keating nor Lee had a minute of field experience. Why were they both suddenly assigned to the major crimes unit? At the same time? And on the same team? Vance was up to something. Gibbs could practically smell it in the air.

Unable to resist the pull of the bourbon in the basement, Gibbs went down the stairs and poured a shot into an empty coffee mug. After slamming down the  
amber liquid, he refilled the mug and sipped the bourbon. He had to figure out what Vance was thinking before one of the new probies got him or Langer killed.

Eventually, he put down his empty coffee cup and ventured back upstairs. A quick shower was in order. After allowing the water to get steamy hot, he soaped up quickly, then rinsed and wrapped his towel around his waist after blotting the excess water from his skin.

He knew winter was coming and thought to pull out some sweaters and sweatshirts in his closet. After pulling down the first box, he neatly stacked the sweatshirts into his dresser. The next was a box of sweaters that he pulled down, opened and reviewed the contents before folding them up and setting them into a special drawer that had a bag of cedar chips. He wondered why he bothered packing stuff away, just to have to unpack it all. It was busywork. Sometimes he needed busywork. He sniffed one sweater. It smelled freshly laundered. He had made sure everything was clean before boxing it up.

There was another box on the top shelf of his closet. He’d seen it before, but couldn’t remember what it was. Pulling it down, he carried it into the room and set it on top of the bed. Unlike the other boxes, this one was taped shut, which was odd. It wasn’t something he tended to do when storing boxes in the closet. There was one word on the side of the box in thick, black marker. 

“Tony’s,” he read aloud. “Why the hell do I have a box of Tony’s stuff in my closet?”

It only took a couple of seconds to use his knife to cut the tape and open the box. On the top was a gray sweater. Picking it up, Gibbs brought it to his nose and inhaled deeply. It smelled like Tony. Closing his eyes, he could see Tony as clearly as if he were standing in the room with him. He inhaled again, and could see Tony wearing the sweater out in the field. Different cases popped into his head.

Then his eyes suddenly popped open. He’d worn the sweater in the field himself. Why would he be wearing Tony’s sweater? Tossing the sweater side, he began digging further into the box. The next things were stacks of photos, mostly of him or Tony, or the pair together. Some were scenic views, boats and lighthouses. He shook his head. Had they been that close? Did they spend time together outside of work? He remembered seeing pain in Tony’s eyes, but he’d never asked what put it there. He’d been dealing with too many of his own problems to have spent any time worrying about what his team was going through.

Further down in the box were a couple of books, CDs and DVDs. Seeing _Blazing Saddles_ made him smile. Another memory appeared. He and Tony had watched the DVD together. More than once. 

At the bottom of the box was a letter in a sealed envelope. Picking it up, he turned it over and saw that it was addressed to him, _Leroy Jethro Gibbs_, in what he recognized as Tony’s handwriting. 

“What the hell?”

It was late. Really late. But he was curious. The only thing stranger than realizing he had a box of Tony’s belongings in his closet, was finding a letter addressed to him at the bottom of the box. And upside-down. He never would have found it if he’d stopped at the sweater.

Using his knife, he carefully sliced the envelope open. Inside was a handwritten letter from Tony. Moving next to his lamp, Gibbs reached for his reading glasses and settled back against his pillows. After unfolding the pages, he began reading the words.

_Dear Jethro,_

_Gibbs sounds too formal for a personal letter. Anyway, if you’re reading this letter, I’m assuming your memories have returned and I am with you, or I am long gone, perhaps even dead. If the latter, I hope I went out with a blast. I always thought you and I would succumb to a hail of bullets like Butch Cassidy and The Sundance Kid. That’s the first movie we really bonded over. Remember? We both knew the script almost word for word!_

_I’m writing this with a broken heart. I love my job at NCIS. And I love you. I have decided that I cannot stay any longer. I can’t stand looking over to your desk and knowing that you don’t remember me. At least not the real me and all that we once shared. _

_I think back a lot to that time when I was new on your team and my heat went out. I called you because you were the only person I knew in DC at the time, and I really didn’t want to have to pay for a hotel room. Not that it mattered. They were all booked anyway. You opened your home to me. And we bonded in a way that I don’t think either of us ever dreamed we would. We’ve seen each other at our best and at our worst. And none of it mattered because we were always together. We were more than a team. _

_But then your memories were gone. When I look at you, I see the man I love; the man I have devoted my life and my heart to, but he’s no longer there. The eyes are different. There is no love for me left in those eyes. The cold, blank stares I get back are killing me. Those eyes that were once full of fire and desire for me have gone so cold. It’s unbearable._

_I wasn’t sure I could deal with you leaving. Remember your Margarita Safari? You and Franks boozing it up all day under the Mexican sun? I missed you so much, but then I realized, it was easier on me. You were gone. I didn’t have to look into those cold eyes anymore. And the team needed me. They needed a leader and you were gone. So that’s what I did. I threw myself into running the team. And I was good at it. But it wasn’t enough to heal my heart, so I asked Jenny, Director Shepard, for more work. I needed the distraction. She sent me after Jeanne Benoit. I guess it filled a void, but it wasn’t real._

_Now, you have returned. Just you, not your memories. What did you say the other day? That your mind is like Swiss cheese, full of holes? I thought I was important to you. I thought if you remembered anyone, that it would be me. But your eyes are still cold and distant. You don’t know me anymore and the pain has come back worse than ever. _

_I don’t know why I’m even writing this. I just thought that you should really know the truth. I know you’re with Hollis Mann now. Your smile has returned. There is warmth in your eyes…for her; still ice cold to me. I cannot continue like this anymore. I have asked the director to reassign me. But I couldn’t just walk away without saying anything…like you did._

_Maybe it makes me a coward to put this all in a letter instead of talking to you face-to-face, although we both know that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe I should have let our relationship remain buried in the past. But I can’t. It meant something…to me. With your memory gone, it’s easy for you to let go. But for me, it’s horrible. I can’t even talk to the person who means the most to me because he’s gone. You may be Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but you’re not my Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And that breaks my heart every single time I have to look into your eyes._

_Don’t try to find me. I mean, if Jenny reassigned me and I didn’t get shot up by some bad guy. I have to get away from you to have any hope of moving on. It’s just so damned difficult to walk away from what we had together; what we meant to each other. But I have to. I really have to. _

_Goodbye,_

_Anthony DiNozzo, Jr._

Gibbs read through the entire letter twice. Then folded it up and stuck it back inside the envelope. After placing the envelope on his nightstand, he settled his glasses on top of it and rubbed his eyes. The sadness in Tony’s eyes haunted him. Now that he knew what was behind Tony’s sorrow, it felt like a punch to the gut. 

“Damn it, Tony. Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Why hadn’t anyone told him? Surely other people had to have known. Could he have done something more to help Tony? Yeah, if he hadn’t been so wrapped up in himself, he could have helped. And now it was too late. He’d failed the one person who had loved him with all his heart. Why couldn’t he remember? 

Flipping through the photos, he studied each one carefully. Maybe it would be enough to spark a memory. “We looked so happy together.”

A heavy sigh escaped him as he turned off the lamp and settled under the covers. Enough light streamed in through his window that he could see the gray sweater lying at the foot of the bed. He grasped it and pulled it close; hugging it to his chest. Yeah, it definitely still smelled like Tony.


	5. The Gray Sweater

_October 2008_

Gibbs groaned as morning came way too soon. Sunlight streamed in through his window, which told him he was already running late. A few curse words peppered his ablutions as he shaved his face and brushed his teeth at a record pace. He was glad he showered the night before. He had no time to spare. As he dressed, he saw the gray sweater lying on the bed. A moment later, he was wearing it. It felt comfortable. It felt…right.

That morning, he did something he rarely did. He called the diner to have his coffee ready as he was running late. He didn’t even bother parking. He stopped in front of the diner and Elaine was kind enough to bring him out a bag, plus two cups of coffee to go.

“What’s in the bag?” he asked as he handed her a ten-dollar bill and told her to keep the change.

“Honey, I know when you’re in this much of a hurry, you don’t have time to eat. It’s a fried egg and bacon sandwich that you can eat at your desk.”

Smiling, Gibbs nodded and said, “Thanks for taking care of me. It smells delicious.”

“You have a good day.”

He nodded once more and shifted his pickup truck back into drive. Minutes later, he was parked in the lot and racing to his desk. They were all still there: the new team. In his mind, this was the B-team. Although his A-team hadn’t been perfect, they did work well together. He wanted them back. And it hit him like a brick wall. Tony couldn’t come back. He’d died in that terrible car accident, burned beyond recognition. Kate couldn’t come back either. A bullet had gone through her brain.

His new team called out their good mornings to him as he set the bag and coffee cups onto his desk. “I’m going to check something with Ducky,” he announced, as he walked away, taking a coffee cup with him.

*********

Down in autopsy, Vance was visiting with the medical examiner. “I’m asking for your opinion. I know you are aware of a certain undercover agent on assignment in South America.”

“Oh my,” said Ducky. “I didn’t know that you were aware that I knew.”

“I’m reviewing files. I wanted to make sure none of our undercovers got lost in the shuffle as Jenny could be the only contact for some of them. She left detailed lists of contacts and people who knew about the missions.”

“I honestly don’t know anything about the assignment,” Ducky insisted. “Director Shepard read me in only so I could collect DNA samples, and send them to Abby for processing.”

Vance nodded his head and he mulled over the information. “So Abby doesn’t know?”

Ducky chuckled. “Lovely girl and smart as a whip, but not someone to trust with secrets, especially if you’re trying to keep something a secret from Agent Gibbs.”

“Why the secrecy though? That’s what I don’t get. Why keep it a secret from his team?”

“I guess she didn’t leave everything in those files.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Vance glared at Ducky. “Dr. Mallard, this is no time to keep secrets from me. What was the reason?”

“It’s a bit of a long story.”

“Give me the _Reader’s Digest_ version. Quickly.”

“Tony was in love. Deeply.”

“Jeanne Benoit?”

“Oh, goodness, no. He was fond of Miss Benoit, but she was not the love of his life. He had been living with Jethro for several years.”

“You mean, Special Agent Gibbs?” Arched eyebrows betrayed Vance’s surprise.

“Yes. Director Shepard was aware. When Jethro lost his memory, we all took it hard, but no one took it harder than Anthony. He was dealing with his feelings the best as he could by throwing himself into the job when Jethro left for Mexico. He held the team together in that most trying time.”

“He had a pair of big shoes to fill.”

“Exactly. He did his best and he excelled. With Jethro gone, there was one less daily reminder of what had happened. At the end of the summer, Gibbs returned, but still had memory issues. Tony couldn’t deal with that. When his car was blown up, he called Jenny and asked to be reassigned as an undercover agent. Tony didn’t want anyone to know. He didn’t want anyone coming after him and trying to change his mind.”

“I understand Gibbs, but why keep it a secret from everyone else?”

“Gibbs is a human lie detector. He would know something was up in an instant.”

“You’ve managed to keep it a secret.”

Turning away, Ducky sighed deeply, then turned to face Vance again. “It has been terribly difficult. He sees the worry in my eyes, but mistakes it for concern about him. However, I honestly believe it’s only a matter of time. He’ll figure it out eventually.”

“You think he’s that good?” Vance asked.

“I know he is,” Ducky replied confidently.

Just then the door opened with a whoosh and Gibbs stood before them, looking at one then the other. “Am I interrupting something?”

Vance quickly shoved his hands into his pockets. “Not at all. I was just getting a quick update from Dr. Mallard. He’s all yours.”

Ducky and Gibbs watched as Vance departed the room. 

“I don’t often see you in a sweater, Jethro,” Ducky said as he reached for his teacup.

“It’s Tony’s.”

Ducky took a closer look. “Yes, now that you mention it. I do recall seeing Tony wearing it. He left it at your house?”

Gibbs took a seat. “He left a box in my closest. Photos, odds and ends. And this sweater. There was also a letter at the bottom of the box.” Gibbs retrieved the letter from his pocket and handed it over to Ducky. “I knew you would know.”

After reading the letter, Ducky folded it neatly and returned it to the envelope. “I had no idea he’d written a letter to you, or that he’d leave it at your house.”

“Ducky, did you know about Tony and me? How close we were?”

“Oh, that. Well, yes, of course. You two tried to hide your relationship from Kate, Tim and Abby, but were found out. It wasn’t openly discussed, but people knew. Anthony lived at your house with you for years.”

“Years? We were more than friends? We were lovers?” he asked softly.

“Yes. And we were all happy for the two of you. You found true happiness in each other.”

“And he wanted to leave because my memories weren’t coming back?”

“It was a difficult time for everyone. Anthony was especially feeling hurt. He felt guilty for not going inside with you and having your back. He blames himself for what happened to you.”

Gibbs clenched his fist and released it. “He couldn’t have stopped what happened. He only would have gotten hurt or killed himself.” 

“He spoke to me, after the explosion. He wanted to know if I thought your memories would ever return. He wanted to know if the man he loved was gone forever.”

“This sweater. I remember. It smells like Tony. I feel close to him when I have it near me.”

“Are you saying that you’re starting to remember your relationship?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. Just short flashes. Little bits and pieces. A smile here, sailing a boat there. Watching a movie together. That letter, he was so hurt. I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

“Of course you didn’t.” 

“He was going to leave anyway. I chased him away because I couldn’t remember.”

Ducky did his best to console him. “This is not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. And this new team I’m stuck with, it all feels so wrong.”

“Jethro, you’re a good teacher in the field. That’s what they need. Someone to teach them; someone to lead them.”

“I want my old team back.”

“If you want Tim and Ziva back, you should talk to Vance. He’s the only one who can make that call.”

Gibbs scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Yeah, I guess.” He was nearly out the door, when he paused and turned back. “Are you holding out on me, Duck?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Funny feeling in my gut.”

Ducky smiled faintly. “I could prescribe something if you like.”

A rare smile flashed across Gibbs’ face. “No, I don’t think so.”

*********

Gibbs’ next stop was Abby’s lab. She did a double-take as he entered the lab. 

A frown replaced her smile. “You’re wearing Tony’s sweater,” she said flatly.

Dropping his head, he looked at the sweater. “Yeah, I am. I found it in a box last night. It was there, so I wore it.”

Racing across the lab, she flung her arms around his neck. “I miss him so much. I still can’t believe he’s gone. I keep thinking he’s going to walk through the door again, even though I know he can’t. But sometimes, I dream he’s here with us.”

Gibbs scanned Abby’s shrine to Tony, which consisted of several photos taped to the wall. “I miss him, too.”

Pushing back, Abby wiped a tear from her cheek and returned to her computer. “I don’t have anything for you.”

“I guess that’s only fair. I don’t have anything for you either.” He mentally kicked himself for not picking up a Caf-Pow for her. “I don’t know why I’m here, really. Last night, I opened a box I found in my closest.”

“And found the sweater. I think you covered that.”

“Tony left a letter behind. In the box. He explained that we were in a relationship and he was going to ask to be reassigned because I couldn’t remember.”

“Oh, Gibbs.”

“This sweater, when I hold it, I can still smell Tony. I can hear him laugh. Memories of us together started coming back.”

Grabbing his arm tightly, Abby looked him in the eye. “You remember? You remember being in a relationship with Tony? Really?”

“I don’t know. The letter spelled it all out. I do remember some things. Just flashes. Watching a movie together. Out sailing together. At the cabin. Hiking. Nothing concrete, just random flashes.”

“But that is something. It’s a start. A good start.”

Shaking his head, he struggled to find the words. “It doesn’t matter. He’s gone.”

Abby’s eyes fell to her photos of Tony. “He was an amazing person. And the two of you together were such a dynamic duo. He made you smile, Gibbs. Like, really smile. You were so happy with him. You told me once that you could always be yourself around Tony. He helped you down in your basement, too. He’d drink bourbon with you and help with the boat.”

“Something none of my wives did. Not even Shannon.”

Walking over to her photos of Tony, she stared at them longingly. “At first, he was so worried that it would be too much for you, spending every waking minute together. But then he said it only made you two even closer.”

Lifting his arm, Gibbs inhaled, smelling the sleeve of the sweater. “I’m glad I have this. There is an ache in my heart now, but this sweater, it feels real.”

“Almost like he’s here with you?” asked Abby.

“Almost.”

“You slept with it last night, didn’t you?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “What troubles me is this letter. He felt compelled to leave it. He left it in my closest, so he wanted me to eventually find it and read it. He wanted me to know about us.”

“You two were so in love. Everyone could see it.”

“I just wonder why he couldn’t tell me himself. He put it in a box where I wouldn’t see it until it was too late.”

“We weren’t supposed to fill in the blanks for you. That’s what the doctors said. They wanted us to let you remember what you could, on your own.”

Gibbs sighed heavily. “I remember how sad he always looked. Now I know why.”

“And now you’re kicking yourself because you can’t change the past, right?”

“Can’t change it. Didn’t see it. I should have seen it. I should have known.”

Abby stood beside him, leaning against him as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “It’s not your fault. Tony understood it was the explosion. He blamed himself.”

“And now, I blame myself,” said Gibbs. “I had something very special and lost it because I couldn’t remember.”

“But now you remember bits. You know the truth.”

“But it’s too late.” After a quiet few moments, he announced, “I need more coffee.”

Abby watched him leave, then returned her gaze to the photos of Tony. “We all miss you so much. I think you’d like to know that. Wherever you are. I imagine you’re with Kate, looking down on us; watching out for us.”


	6. Years Gone By

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish terms: 
> 
> Hola: Hello  
Como estás?: How are you?

_December 2008_

Chris shook his head as they sat on Tony’s balcony. “It’s nice here, but must be a big change from DC. Or England,” he added with a wink.

“Same thing, different year,” Tony replied. “It all sort of just runs together.”

“I can imagine.”

“So, who died?” Tony asked, looking directly at Chris. “The first time you visited, it was Jenny. You’d better be careful or I might start thinking you’re the Grim Reaper. I just figured there’s a reason for your visit. Either someone died, or Vance is pulling the plug on my mission.”

“Gibbs lost two team members,” Chris admitted.

Tony nearly choked on his beer. “What? What the hell happened? Is Gibbs okay?”

“He’s fine. Most of this is third-hand from Pride. Apparently, Lee and Keating were assigned to Gibbs’ team because there was a leak at NCIS, and they were the prime suspects. Lee had taken some phone calls and Keating had handled some computer files. Vance thought Gibbs would be able to figure out the leak by working with them. Lee killed Langer, and convinced everyone that he was the leak.”

“Langer? I can’t imagine.”

“Gibbs wasn’t convinced either, but many people were. Dead men can’t defend themselves. Apparently, Gibbs continued investigating on the down-low. It turned out that Lee was the leak and she had set Langer up, then shot him. She ended up getting killed herself. By Gibbs.”

“Damn. So now it’s just Gibbs and Keating?”

Chris laughed uncomfortably. “No. Keating wasn’t cut out for fieldwork. He asked to go back to the cybercrimes unit. Gibbs had a few agents rotate on and off his team. Right now, he has Meredith Brody as his SFA, and Ned Dorneget as his probie. Along with McGee. That’s his current team.”

“Wow, Gibbs with a female SFA. Interesting.”

“He’s not sleeping with her, but Pride said their paths have crossed before.”

Tony nearly choked again. “I didn’t ask.”

“But I’ll still tell you. According to Pride, Gibbs has sworn off dating for the time being. Apparently, he’s starting to remember you. He found some letter you left in his closet.”

Hanging his head, Tony sighed. “I didn’t know what else to do. I felt so overwhelmed. I couldn’t just walk away without leaving something behind. I had to let him know why I was asking to be reassigned.”

“You asked to be reassigned?”

Tony nodded, “Yeah. It was too difficult to continue working with him, knowing that he had no clue. I love him so much, and there he was so close, but not even knowing who I was or what we meant to each other. Jenny was already looking for a place to move me to when my car exploded. I decided it would be easier for everyone if there was finality to the move. I needed a clean break.”

Chris smiled as Maya climbed into his lap. “Do you regret it? Letting everyone think you’re dead?” 

“Not so far. If I hadn’t, they’d all be bugging me to come back. It was so painful, him not remembering me, that I had to get away. I couldn’t look back. I didn’t mean to hurt any of them. But I had to walk away. You didn’t tell Pride, did you?”

“No, of course not,” Chris said as he scratched Maya’s ears. “It’s not easy getting information from him, but I haven’t told him about you. I just said that I admired Gibbs and was concerned about him.”

“I am indebted to Ducky. Gibbs is really sharp. I’m a little surprised he hasn’t figured out that Ducky is keeping something secret from him. Maybe I’ll send the old Duckman a Christmas card. Anonymously, of course. Although, I’m not sure he knows where I am. He only knows Jenny was sending me undercover, somewhere.” 

“Send him a postcard. I imagine he’ll figure it out.”

“I think I will.”

*********

_February 2009_

Tony had a favorite beach. It was out of the way and while it had sand to walk on, there were a lot of massive rocky outcroppings to walk around. It wasn’t an ideal spot for sunbathing or swimming. However, Tony thought it was the perfect place to hang out and do some thinking. He tended to avoid the beach on sunny days, preferring to go on cloudy and rainy days when he’d often have the whole beach to himself. He would also often go very early in the mornings, before anyone else would arrive. He enjoyed having the entire beach to himself. Even Clayton wouldn’t bother him when he was out at the beach, unless Tony invited him.

The day was overcast, gray and gloomy. Rain appeared to be imminent. It was just the sort of day that should keep people away from the beach. At least most people. To Tony’s surprise, he saw someone else sitting on one of the rocky outcroppings, staring out over the water. His first thought was to keep his distance, but he liked going down to the sandy edge of the beach where he could allow the water to wash over his toes. He hadn’t decided what his next move was when the other man turned to him. 

“Hola.”

Tony studied the man, quickly identifying him. “Ah, Miguel. Como estás?”

“Fine. It’s all fine. Clive, right? I remember you from the bar. You’re usually hanging out with Riley.”

Tony eyed the clouds. “Yeah. Clive Paddington.” He kicked himself. He’d forgotten the British accent on his first response. Maybe Miguel wouldn’t notice. Although, if he truly was an NCIS agent, he surely would have noticed. Tony sighed and put on his best accent. “Gray days are the best to find the beaches empty.”

“That’s what I thought. Then you showed up.” 

As an agent himself, Tony studied Miguel. His Spanish accent was flawless. Tony imagined that Nick was raised speaking both languages. “I like to come here to think. I like looking out over the ocean. It’s endless. Endless possibilities.”

“Yeah. It is a good place to think. Where’s your friend, Riley?”

“Working, I’d imagine. We’re both from England, so we’re mates, you know.” Tony was sure the man knew his accent was fake, but he did his best. 

Miguel snorted in derision. “Sure.”

“We have something in common. We both lost people we loved. We both struggle with it.”

“Who did you lose?”

Tony hesitated for a minute, wondering if it would help to say it aloud. “Love of my life. That relationship, it was the one for me. It was real. Intense. I can’t imagine having that with anyone else. But it’s gone. All I have is my memories.”

“Some people think you and Riley are together, if you know what I mean.”

“We’re not. No. We’re just friends in a totally platonic sense. And I help him out, so he’s also my boss. A little extra cash never hurts.”

“I get the appeal of the beach. I lost someone, too. There’s something about looking over the water and remembering things.”

“I imagine all the tears ever shed wind up in the ocean,” said Tony. 

“I suppose that’s one reason the oceans are rising.”

“There is sadness all around us, like a cloak. I guess there is a comfort in knowing that we’re not the only ones who are sad.”

Nick nodded and tossed a small rock into the water. “That is an interesting thought. For me, I just need a little time alone now and then. Sometimes it’s hard to get away from everyone else. Sometimes, I just want to breathe. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed. “Breathing is good. I’m not sure remembering is good. It’s sad.”

“They say that someone lives on in your memories of them. It isn’t really sad to remember. The memories are happy. The sadness is that they’re in the past and can never happen again, because you lost the someone who made the memories happy ones. If you don’t remember them, then what was the point? I remember. I try to be a better man for it. I want to make her proud of the man I have become even though she’s not here. I like to think she’s still aware. Wherever she is.”

“Like an angel watching over you.”

Nick smiled slightly. “Yeah, she’s my angel.”

“My love was many things, but not quite an angel,” Tony mused.

The pair fell silent as the wind picked up. Tony studied Nick, and wondered if he was truly on the same side. The director had never mentioned him. He wondered just how deep he was and what exactly his assignment was. It would have made more sense to put Tony on an NCIS case. Although, it was less likely Gibbs would stumble across his case if it was largely under MI6’s jurisdiction. He wondered if Nick had a partner, but didn’t want to ask him too many questions, and open up that can of worms. It was safer for them both if Nick didn’t know that he was NCIS and Clayton was MI6. He was determined to keep it that way.

*********

The months and years rolled by with little notice from Tony. Even sunny days seemed clouded by gloom in his world. Often times, it felt like he was just going through the motions. It seemed like just a blink of an eye and it was 2014. He was thankful for his friendship with Clayton, and had a feeling it was good for them both. Tony always enjoyed his visits with Chris, even though they were infrequent. While he was sad when he visited the beach, the times he found Nick there, he knew he had someone who understood his pain.

*********

_June 2014_

June brought another visit from Chris. His expression was serious and somber when Tony opened the door. “I keep expecting you to show up with a sickle. Who did we lose now?” 

Chris took a deep breath. “Just invite me in, okay?”

“Sure, please come in.” Stepping back, Tony gave Chris room to enter the apartment before he closed the door. “I’m out of beer, but still have a bottle or two of wine.”

“Works for me.”

The pair settled onto the balcony and sipped their wine. After a few minutes of silence, Tony asked again. “Who died?”

“I’m really sorry. Gibbs’ father had a stroke and died.”

“Oh, no.”

“I figured you’d want to know, even if you can’t go to the funeral.”

“Damn. I’m glad you told me, but I wish I could be there for Jethro.”

Setting his empty glass down on the table, Chris looked over to Tony. “How about I take you out on the town and we get stupid drunk instead?”

“Sure. I haven’t done that in a while.”

_October 2014_

Over the years, Tony would occasionally see Nick on the beach from time to time, but more often at a bar at night. Usually, he was with David Silva. They remained aware of each other; acquaintances who would nod and wave, but they rarely interacted much more than that. If they did, it was more often at the beach, where they bonded over a feeling of loss.

Chris LaSalle continued to visit at least twice each year, checking up on Tony. He reported that Pride was miffed that Vance kept sending him on these trips and didn’t really inform him why. 

On one visit, he confessed, “Pride figured out I’m coming to Argentina.”

“How did he figure that out?”

“He had my phone pinged.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You have a backed-stopped ID, but you don’t have a burn phone?”

“Yeah, well. My bad. I should have known he’d go poking around since I take off at least a couple times a year, without using vacation time. He knows something is up, but he respects that I can’t tell him what. Hey, you’ll never guess who got reassigned to the New Orleans office.”

“Who’s that?”

“Meredith Brody. Remember she was Gibbs’ SFA for a while?”

“Oh, yeah.” 

“Stan Burley is back with him, as his SFA. In case you were wondering.”

“Oh wow, Stan Burley. I wonder if his ulcer has started acting up again, yet.” 

“Pride said Vance couldn’t find anyone willing to work with Gibbs, so he called Stan and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.”

“What was that?” asked Tony.

“Supposedly, if Burley makes it another year with Gibbs, he can choose his next assignment.”

“Nice.”

“Dorney got moved to international cybercrimes. Gibbs has a new probie from NSA. He brought her to New Orleans last time he visited.”

“You met her?”

“Yeah, she’s okay. One of the agents Pride and Gibbs worked with when they were probies was murdered. Do you remember Dan McLane?”

“Sounds familiar, but I don’t think I ever met him. Gibbs probably mentioned him.”

“Well, Pride asked Gibbs to help on the case and he brought her down. His probie is married anyway. Young, too. Ellie Bishop, former NSA analyst.”

“It’s sort of like a merry-go-round. The painted ponies go up and down, everything spins around. One agent leaves, another one takes their place, just the carousel of life.”

“Do you ever think about going back?”

“Maybe. Someday. Clayton and I are gathering intel, but sometimes I wonder if it’s valuable intel or just busywork. At least we spend time at the airport, and can report on the people who come and go; potential threats. Now that we have computers with face recognition, it makes our job a lot easier. Sometimes Vance asks me to track someone. I’ve been around long enough that I don’t think people are too curious about me. Most seem to think I live off family money and just write articles and snap a few photos to have something to do.”

“Not a bad gig.” 

“It does give me an excuse to visit hotels and restaurants. It has its perks.”

“This balcony is a great perk, too. Very relaxing.”

“It’s not bad,” said Tony as he scooped up Bella, holding her in his lap and scratching behind her ears as she purred. “The cats are good company.”


	7. Lost Package

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish terms:
> 
> Gracias: Thank you  
Hola: Hello  
Señor: Sir or Mister

_May 2015_

Vance called Chris and asked him to visit Argentina immediately. “Tony has missed two check-ins,” he explained bluntly. “One may be lost in the mail, but two in a row makes me very nervous. Find him. I’ll clear it with Pride.”

“I’m on my way.”

*********

Chris knocked on the door to Tony’s apartment. He was surprised when a young woman answered. “Hola. I’m looking for Clive.”

“Clive Paddington?”

“Yeah. Is he home?” As he asked the question, Bella and Maya came to the door and rubbed against his legs.

“Oh, they know you!” said the woman.

Chris knelt down and pet them both, then picked up Maya, holding her close to his chest as he brushed a kiss on her head. “Yeah, I went to college with Clive. I come to visit a couple times a year. My name is Randy Alvarez. Is Clive home?” 

“Um, he does not live here anymore.”

“What? He would have told me. Where did he go?”

“I do not know. You should talk to the manager. He said the man left everything behind, including his cats. He lets me stay here if I pay the rent and feed the cats. I do not know anything more.”

Chris nodded to the cats. “Take good care of them. They’re good kitties.”

His next stop was the building manager’s office. It was the same size as an apartment, but was part office and part store. There were a few fresh fruits available, but mostly pop, beer, wine and junk food as well as personal care items like combs, brushes, shampoo, soap, sunscreen, toothbrushes and toothpaste. It was clearly meant more for immediate need shopping than for regular shopping trips.

The counter also offered a rack of postcards and another of sunglasses. “I sell stamps, too,” the manager offered as he sat behind a desk reading a paper.

“I’m a friend of Clive Paddington’s. A very close friend. He would not have moved on without telling me. No way. What happened to him?”

“I am sorry, señor. I wish I could tell you. He was a very good tenant. I had not seen him for a few days and his neighbors complained about the cats meowing and scratching at the door. I went into the apartment and found that the food and water dishes were empty. The litter box had not been cleaned in a while. The fruit on the counter was rotting, with flies buzzing around. I knew something was wrong. There was still cat food in the cupboard, so I fed the cats. I watched and waited, but Señor Paddington never returned. I know he liked to go to the beach. Maybe he was swept out to sea?”

“How long has it been since you’ve seen him?”

The manager pursed his lips as he thought about it. “Six weeks, maybe seven. Gabriella inquired about a place to stay about three weeks ago, so I let her stay as long as she pays the bills and feeds the cats. She will go if Señor Paddington returns. He still has a lease, but has missed rent payments.”

“So all his things are still in the apartment?”

“Yes. Gabriella only had a few things. The furniture is Señor Paddington’s. It is his if he returns. His clothing and other things are there. I hope you find him.”

“Did you alert the police?”

“Yes, of course. They looked around, but I have heard nothing back. I spoke to his other friend, the black man. I did not know anyone else to contact.”

Chris made a beeline back up to the apartment and knocked again. 

Gabriella promptly answered the door. 

“I wondered if I could come in. I just want to see Clive’s things. Please?”

Gabriella hesitantly allowed him to enter the apartment. He quickly went to the bedroom and checked the nightstand. He found Tony’s class ring and picked it up. There was also a watch Tony wore on nice occasions that Chris pocketed. “He had a picture, him and his mom. Do you know where that is?”

Gabriella nodded and opened a dresser drawer. “I kept everything. His clothes are in the closet. Some I put into boxes to make room for my things.”

“Did you ever see a book? Like a diary that he wrote in?”

She nodded again. “It was here, but another friend came before and took it.”

“A black man named Riley Clayton?”

“I think so. He wore a nice suit and said he was a good friend. He gave me his card. It’s in the kitchen drawer. He wanted me to tell Señor Paddington to call him, if he ever returned.”

“Thank you.” Chris gave the cats another pat each on his way to the door. At the last minute, he noticed Tony’s guitar in the corner and grabbed it as well. Stopping at the door, he pulled five twenties from his wallet and tossed them on the end table. “For the kitties. Whatever they need.”

Gabriella smiled broadly. “Gracias, Señor. I will take very good care of them.”

Chris checked the carport that was assigned to the apartment and found it to be empty. Taking a deep breath, he tried to remember how to get to Clayton’s apartment. After a couple of wrong turns, he eventually found the building. It was a classier place than Tony’s apartment and in a swankier part of town, even though it was still within walking distance. While Tony’s building only had stairs to the upper floors, Clayton’s building had elevators.

Chris knocked on the door and Clayton answered quickly. “You came looking for Clive?”

Chris pushed his way into the apartment, and saw two men sitting on the sofa. Nodding to the other men, Chris asked, “Are they clear?”

“Yes, they’re my contacts, MI6.”

“I want to know where Clive is. Did he go rogue? What the hell happened?”

Clayton motioned to a chair next to the couch. “Have a seat, please. I’m as worried as you are about Clive. I have no clue at all where he is. He’s gone missing without a word.” Clayton sat at the end of the couch, next to the chair.

“Missing? How?” Chris asked.

“Unknown. He missed a meeting with me in March. That’s unusual, so I went looking for him. There’s a beach he likes to hang out at.”

“I know the one. He goes there to think. I went with him a few times when I was in town.”

“I checked places he liked to go, including the beach. His car was there. I found the spare key and brought it back here, just keeping an eye on it for him. We dusted it for prints and only found mine and his. I talked to the police and they think he got caught up in the tide and must have drowned. They searched the water, but never found a body.”

There was fire in Chris’ eyes. “That’s a load of crap. And if you ever went out to the beach with him, you would know why.”

Clayton clasped his hands in front of his body and nodded. “Because Tony just walked on the beach. He never went for a swim.”

“Exactly. I never saw him get more than ankle deep. He liked the water washing over his feet, but I never saw him go in more than a few inches.”

“I’ve been poking my nose around, but haven’t heard a thing. I have a plane to use. I’ve flown around. I never found any clues. I went by his apartment and they didn’t know anything either.”

“Do you have his book? They said you had it.”

Clayton nodded, rose from his chair and returned a minute later, handing the book to Chris. “I wasn’t sure what all was in there, but wanted to make sure there wasn’t anything classified. I have his laptop, too, all his digital files of what he’d mail off to DC each month. I don’t know the code, though.”

As Chris flipped through the book, a worn, tattered envelope fell out. He opened it carefully and found a few photos from Tony’s past. There were a couple pictures from his youth and from college, along with a few of Gibbs. “I brought a few more things, including his guitar, for safe-keeping. I know he’ll want them, whenever he turns back up. I’m going to make a call,” he said, pulling out his cell phone.

“You can step into one of the bedrooms if you’d like some privacy.”

“Thanks. You got a beer or something?”

“No, sorry. I don’t drink. I’ll pour you a glass of lemonade if you’d like,” Clayton offered.

“Sure, thank you.”

“Made with purified water, I promise.”

Chris stepped into Clay’s bedroom and closed the door as he dialed the phone. “This is Randy Alvarez. I need to speak to Lonnie Veracruz. It’s urgent.”

Vance soon came on the line. _Yes?_

“The package is missing. Gone. No trace.”

_ “I was afraid of that.” _

“I’d like to have some time to look for the package. I’d like to bring it home.”

_You can’t do that alone. I’ll send a friend. I need details. See if you can find out why Riley didn’t mention the package was lost. _

“I’ll do that. See you when I get home.”

When he returned to the living room, a tall glass of lemonade was waiting for him. Picking it up, he took a long drink, before setting the glass back on the coaster. “He asked why you haven’t reported Clive missing.”

The shock on Clay’s face was obvious. “I sent in a report right away.” Nodding to the other two MI6 agents, he added, “That’s why they’re here, George and Henry. If there was any foul play, I could be in danger as well.”

“The report never got home, to Clive’s family,” Chris said firmly. While the apartment should be secure, he could never be certain.

“I’m not in contact with his family. I sent it back through my company. We’ve been looking, but haven’t found a single bloody clue.”

“What about that other guy? I’ve seen him on the same beach and at the bar. What was his name? Miguel?”

Clay nodded. “Yeah, I know the guy. Miguel Lorenza. He hasn’t seen Clive in a while. If he knows what happened, he’s not sharing it with me.”

“I need to find a hotel. Can you recommend one?”

“Sure, there’s a nice hotel down the street.”

“I’ll need two rooms or a suite. Lonnie, my boss, is sending help,” said Chris as he stood up. 

Clay quickly found the phone number and made the call. A few minutes later, he looked back to Chris. “They can have a two-bedroom suite ready for you tomorrow. It’s reserved under your name, Randy Alvarez. You’re welcome to the couch tonight.” As he tossed a set of keys to Chris, he added, “Clive’s Mustang. You may as well have a car while you’re in town. It has a spare key to the apartment, but I’d knock before using it.”

“Can I leave his things here?”

“Certainly, mate. I’ll store them in my bedroom.” 

Chris leaned back in the chair and shook his head. “What the hell could have happened to him?”

“I haven’t a clue, honestly,” said Clay. “It’s possible he was swept out into the water, but I doubt it. He could have been taken. Maybe he witnessed something he shouldn’t have and they took him or killed him. The odd thing is, his body hasn’t shown up. You know, Miguel is the one who told me, as long as his body doesn’t show up, I should assume he is alive and being held somewhere against his will. He said he’d put out some feelers, but he never said he found out any information.”

“What if Clive let it slip that he thought Miguel was UC? Maybe Miguel got rid of him.”

“Anything is possible.” 

The four men went out to dinner together; their expressions were solemn as they chatted about the weather and airplanes. Chris asked about going to the police, but Clay told him the authorities hadn’t been of any help and were certain Clive had drowned.

“They’re making absolutely no effort at all,” Clay said. “It will be up to us to find him.”

*********

Early the next morning, Clay accompanied Chris to the airport to wait for his contact. Vance had texted back that it would be someone he would recognize. He gulped audibly when he saw who was walking toward him, carrying a suitcase and a pack.

The familiar face smiled at him as he was pulled into a one-arm hug, “Hey Randy. Good to see you.” 

Chris pointed to Clayton. “Riley Clayton, a friend of Clive’s.”

“Ken Pearson, Randy’s uncle. He grew up calling me King.”

Chris grinned from ear to ear. “Yeah, it’s good to see you, King. Riley has us set up at a hotel, and we have the use of Clive’s car while we’re here.”

“Let the good times roll,” Pride said as he put on his sunglasses.

Less than an hour later, they had checked into their suite. Clayton quickly swept the area for bugs, then said it was clear to talk.

“I never suspected Vance would send you, but it’s sure good to see you,” Chris said with a smile.

“He called and filled me in that he was using you as a UC contact, and your target was missing. Who’s your target?” 

“Clive Paddington.”

Pride shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Tony.”

They locked their eyes onto each other. Several seconds passed before Pride spoke again. His voice was barely a whisper, “DiNozzo? But he died. This was all a cover-up?”

Leaning in, Chris also kept his voice low. “He said he’d asked Jenny for a transfer. He was doing some UC work…”

“The La Grenouille case. I remember.”

“His car was blown up. But he wasn’t in it.”

Pride’s eyebrows raised up in surprise. “Gibbs said they watched it unfold live on the DC traffic cams.”

“La Grenouille insisted that Tony ride in the limo with him and his daughter. One of his men was driving Tony’s car when it exploded. He was right behind the limo, trailing after it. The body was burned beyond recognition. Tony called Jenny and asked her to say it was him, that he had died in the explosion, and then to put him deep UC. I’m not even really sure what his mission is. Jenny chose me as his contact because he knew me, but I wasn’t in DC.”

“Yeah, that makes perfect sense. If it was anyone from DC, Gibbs would have seen it in their eyes. I just can’t believe Tony is alive after all these years.”

“I hope he still is,” said Chris. “The local cops are convinced he drowned and won’t investigate further.”

“Why would they think that?”

Clayton said, “I was looking around for him and found his car parked at a beachfront he favored.”

“Red Mustang convertible,” Chris offered.

Pride rubbed his chin as he took in the information. “Wasn’t the car that got blown up a vintage Mustang?”

“Yeah, but it was green.”

“We need to find him. How long has he been down here? It’s been what, about ten years?”

“Maybe seven or eight, I think. Can you keep this from Gibbs?” asked Chris. “I know you keep in touch and you two go way back.”

“First things first. We find Tony and bring him home. Then we follow our orders.” Pride shook his head. “I’ll have to think this one over. Those two really do belong with each other. They were so happy together. It doesn’t seem right to keep them apart.”

“Tony was just heartbroken and devastated when Gibbs didn’t remember him. And when Gibbs came back and started dating Hollis Mann, it was really hard on Tony.”

“I can imagine,” said Pride.

“He was in a bad place and had to get away. When his car exploded, he knew everyone would think he was dead. He said he wanted a clean break because any reminders were too painful.”

“He never thought Gibbs would get his memories back.”

“I’ve been telling him what you tell me,” Chris confessed. “But that’s not much. He knows Gibbs found the letter and isn’t dating anyone.”

Clasping his hands together, Pride said, “We need to find him and convince him to go home. They need each other.”

When Pride’s phone rang, he picked it up and stepped into the bedroom to take his call. A few minutes later, he returned to the living room looking grim and announced, “Gibbs has been shot. He’s being rushed into surgery aboard a Naval ship.” 

Chris rose to his feet quickly. “What the hell happened?”

“It’s all a bit sketchy. They lost Ned Dorneget to a terrorist’s bombing in Cairo, Egypt. He saved the lives of several people by evacuating them before the explosion. Burley and Gibbs were following up a lead in Iraq when Gibbs was shot twice by an American kid who was connected to the case. Once in the knee, once near his heart. They flew him to the USS _Daniel Webster_ for emergency surgery. He’s now in critical, but stable, condition.” 

“Shit.”


	8. A Cellar Without A View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Terms:
> 
> Buenos días: Good Morning  
Dinero: Money  
Retroceda ahora, por favor. ¡Espalda!: Back away now, please. Back!

_May 2015_

Tony ached. The room was dark, so he had no sense of where he was, or even what day or time it was. There was no exterior window to let in enough natural light to let him know if it was day or night. He had a vague sense that he’d been holed up in the cellar for several days, and possibly a few weeks.

Despite the darkness around him, he closed his eyes. Memories returned vividly, as if they were currently happening again. He’d been standing on the beach early on a gray morning, lost in his memories. The sounds of multiple vehicles arriving together had surprised him. He favored this beach due to its isolation. It was also too early for most people to venture out, especially to a distant, desolate beach. 

His eyes surveyed the horizon as memories of his past, his relationship with Gibbs, floated foggily through his mind. They had once been so clear, but as the years passed, they became more ghostlike; there, but difficult to grasp at times. It was for the best. He really needed to let go and stop holding on to his yesterdays. 

As several men clamored out of the vehicles, Tony became nervous. There were a lot of guys, about a dozen. It was odd. Shoving his hands deeper into his pockets, he turned and began walking down the beach at a slow pace. As the new arrivals began mirroring his speed and direction, he sped up. They did the same, spreading out like a net.

Tony quickly went over his options. He could jump into the water, which was not very inviting. It was cold and surrounded by rocky terrain. No one swam in this area, and few boats dared to attempt to navigate around the rocks. He could run, but running in sand was difficult and he was grossly outnumbered. Or he could turn around and ask these guys what the hell they wanted.

With a smile on his face, he turned, with his hand on his weapon, which was tucked into the back of his waistband. “Buenos días.”

The men continued to circle around him.

“I don’t know what you want,” Tony continued, knowing the chances were that at least some of these guys understood English, “but I don’t want any trouble.” As they continued to close in, Tony drew his gun and pointed it at one of the men, then another and another. “What do you want? Looking for a little cash? Dinero? You can have it, but I need you to back off now,” he said with firm authority. “Retroceda ahora, por favor. ¡Espalda!”

A couple of the men stopped advancing, but not all of them. Tony was barefoot, as he enjoyed feeling the sand on his feet, plus, his skin was easier to clean than his sandals. Backing away, he felt the water beginning to lap at his heels. He thought again about trying to swim away, when several of the men started rushing toward him. He began squeezing the trigger rapid-fire until he was zapped with a stun gun. One hit knocked him off his feet. He remembered digging his fingers into the sand. The next moment, several hands grabbed him and began carrying him back toward the road. The men tossed him into the back of a truck and took off. 

Before he regained his ability to move, his wrists and ankles were bound, a gag was placed in his mouth and a burlap sack was pulled over his head. He could hear several of the men talking nearby. They spoke a foreign language, but it was not Spanish. After listening for a while, Tony wondered to himself if they were speaking Hebrew. He had heard Ziva speak it on the phone sometimes, and this sounded familiar. But why would a gang of Hebrew-speaking miscreants suddenly grab him off a secluded beach in Argentina? 

They must have been following him for days, or weeks, to know where he would be so early in the morning. He thought the motive could be money. The locals thought he was from a wealthy family, but he’d provided no names to anyone; no contact information at all. Who would they contact for a ransom? Had someone figured out he was a federal agent and wanted information?

They seemed to drive for a very long time, then Tony was hauled from the back of a truck and dumped into a dark room. The bindings and hood were left in place, so he remained on the floor, moving as little as possible. With little else to do, he allowed himself to sleep. He had no idea how much time had passed when he heard the door open. He could hear multiple men, again speaking a foreign language. And, once more, he was lifted and moved to the back of a truck and driven for hours. After a time, they stopped and he was pulled from the back of the truck and forced to walk. 

This time, they pushed him down some stairs, and the burlap sack covering his head was removed. He blinked his eyes against the dim light. As he was looking around, a metal cuff was locked around each of his wrists. They were fastened to a long chain that was bolted to the wall. Then he was shoved down into a cellar.

“This is your room,” a man said in stilted English. 

“Gee, thanks,” Tony replied sarcastically.

That earned him a punch to the jaw. After that, he decided to keep his mouth shut for the time being. His captors allowed him to go without food and water for a ridiculously long time. 

Digging into his pockets, he found they were full of sand, but wasn’t sure if he’d filled them, or the sand was scooped up as he was dragged along the ground. It didn’t really matter. He pulled out as much of the sand as he could and created a little mini-beach he could stare at. Closing his eyes, he would imagine the water washing across the shore.

There wasn’t much in the cellar. A dim, bare bulb hung at the end of a cord, dangling from the ceiling. Tony quickly discovered how to turn it on and off. Turning it off wasn’t an issue. Finding it to turn it on again could be a problem. There was a large collection of old, dingy glass jars and rusty, dented tin cans. All were empty. At least he’d have a place to relieve himself when the need arose. Other than that, there was little space, and less to do.

When a hallucination of Gibbs showed up, Tony thought he was losing his mind. The hallucination was wearing the gray sweater Tony had left behind. That made him smile. It was the only piece of his clothing that Gibbs had ever openly admired. While Tony had tried to give the sweater to his boss, Gibbs only agreed to wear it on occasion, and said it would always be Tony’s. 

The day he decided to leave a box of mementos in Gibbs’ closest, he deliberately chose the gray sweater that Gibbs had admired. He remembered wearing it when he and Ziva went undercover as married assassins. After being beaten, he was afraid it was ruined, but Abby promised she could remove the bloodstains. And she did. 

He’d also left other things in the box: several photos from their joint vacations, books they’d read together and discussed, CDs they had listened to together, DVDs they had watched together, and a handwritten letter. 

Tony had carefully chosen the things he thought would most likely jar Gibbs’ memories. Even though he was intent on leaving, part of his heart could not let go. He wanted Gibbs to remember him and what they meant to each other. He had been unable to close the door and walk away. He poured his heart into the letter. It wasn’t that he felt he had a lot to say. The point he wanted to make was that his heart was broken and it was simply too painful for him to stay. He hoped Gibbs’ memories would come back one day, and that he would feel the same way. 

Even though Tony had ended the letter with, _‘Don’t try to find me.’_, that was in fact exactly what he was hoping Gibbs would do. But he wanted it to be his Gibbs, the one who loved him, not the one who didn’t remember him. 

So there was hallucination Gibbs wearing the gray sweater, standing before him in all his ghostly qualities. While Tony knew the image was not real, it was there, glaring at him. 

“Come on, Gibbs,” he muttered. “There were like twenty of them. I only had one gun. I think I hit some of them. Probably why they won’t feed me.”

_“Twelve,”_ the Gibbs hallucination reminded him. 

“You must be sober. I imagine they’d look like twenty after half a bottle of bourbon. When are you coming to get me?”

Hallucination Gibbs sighed deeply. _“You asked Jenny to tell everyone you died. No one is coming. We all think you’re dead.”_

Tears welled in Tony’s eyes, because that was the truth. Everyone thought he was dead. At least, everyone other than Chris, Ducky and Vance. “Then why are you here,” he squeaked out as his throat tightened.

_“Because, you keep holding on to yesterday. You won’t let go.”_

The tears began to flow, as his body shook. “I can’t let you go. If I do, I will have nothing at all. Nothing. I need you. I need to keep holding on. Why can’t you remember me?”

Hallucination Gibbs smiled and faded away without another word.

*********

Tony’s captors eventually shoved a bowl of food toward him. Down on his side, he didn’t have the energy to move. “Water,” he croaked. “I need water.”

He could hear them talking, still in a foreign language. A few minutes later, another bowl was set on the floor near his head. Tony waited for the man to back away, then he crawled over to the bowl and took a few sips. His mouth was so parched; it felt good to have water again. Closing his eyes, he savored it. There was no hurry. He knew it had been hours since he was taken. After he was able to keep some water down for a few minutes, he opened his eyes and took a look at the other bowl. It was mostly grilled vegetables, with a few bits of bread. It looked like the leftovers from whatever his captors had eaten. Tony sighed deeply, but eventually ate. He had to have food. 

He didn’t have much to do. The chain kept him from wandering too far. He ate and drank when his captors left bowls for him. Some meals were better than others. The quantity also varied greatly. Sometimes they gave him enough that he could stash some away for another time when he got less. 

For the first few days, he was mostly left alone. Then the beatings came. Often the men yelled at him in their foreign language. Occasionally, one would shout at him in English. Apparently one of the men Tony had shot on the beach had died. He couldn’t feel any remorse. Although he didn’t verbalize it, he held the thought that he wished he had killed more of them.

*********

“Why are you keeping me here?” he yelled one day as he was being punched. “Let me the fuck go.”

His captors declined to respond to him. After the beating, he was tossed to the cellar floor and the door was shut and bolted, leaving him in the tiny room with only a dim light to keep him company. And the shadowy image of Gibbs.

“When will you come for me?” Tony asked weakly.

Gibbs shook his head. _“You’re on your own. We don’t even know you’re alive. What are you going to do, Skippy?”_

“I’m going to keep holding on to my yesterdays. I remember. I remember us, Gibbs. Us. Together. At work. Not at work. Why can’t you remember?” 

_“I’m lost, Tony. I don’t know what to think.”_

“I miss you so much.”

_“I miss you, too.”_

A faint smile crossed Tony’s lips. That’s all he wanted to know; that Gibbs missed him. Even if the words came from an imaginary figure, it was still good to hear. 

“That’s why I can’t let go. There is still hope out there. For us.”

*********

_June 2015_

The days ran together in a boring monotony. Tony’s only respite was his shadowy visions of Gibbs and their imaginary conversations. Mostly, Tony would beg to be rescued and Gibbs continued to say they weren’t even looking because everyone thought he was dead.

“Should I just die?” he asked one day.

The shadowy figure of Gibbs faded in and out, but eventually said, _“No.”_

Ghostlike Gibbs usually wasn’t usually any wordier than Real Gibbs had ever been. And that often made Tony smile. “Okay, I’m going to keep holding on to my yesterdays. Our yesterdays. I will just live here in my mind, and you can go on with your life, not even knowing I still exist.”

_“Keep holding on, Skippy.” _

“Why?”

Ghostlike Gibbs looked around and remained silent for a while. Then sighed and said, _“I don’t know. But I want you to.”_

Tony didn’t even care that his head was on a dirt floor. He didn’t care that the image wasn’t the Real Gibbs. It made him smile to think that Gibbs would want him to keep holding on. “Okay. I’ll keep holding on. For you.”

*********

_July 2015_

Some days, Tony rallied himself and tried to exercise in the tiny space. Other days, he just slept as much as he could. The bowl of water was usually the same, but the food continued to vary, both in content and amount. 

It was only when he was certain he was too smelly to bear did his captors drag him to a larger room and let him use a bucket of water and a cloth to clean himself. It didn’t help all that much.

Occasionally, chatter would drift down to the cellar. He could tell people would come and go. The sound of vehicles roaring to life was easily heard. To Tony’s ears, they were driving on dirt, not pavement. He could hear the sound of spinning tires and the spraying of pebbles and dirt when the vehicles left.

Since he’d been held captive, he’d only heard the voices of men, until one day. There was a familiar tone, even though the language was not English.

“Ziva?” he called. “Ziva?” 

The conversation above him paused momentarily, then continued at a rapid pace. Whoever the woman was, she did not sound happy. Moments later, he heard footsteps coming down the wooden stairs. The cellar door was unbolted and opened. And there she was.

“Ziva! Thank God! I’ve been waiting for NCIS to find me,” Tony hopefully, as he lifted his chained wrists. “Get me the hell out of here!”

Ziva focused on him, but spoke to the man behind her. “Why is he not wearing a hood?”

“He is locked and chained. What threat is he?”

Turning on her heel, Ziva spoke as she walked away. “I did not want him to see my face, nor did I wish to see his.”

“Son of a bitch,” Tony whispered under his breath.


	9. Two Roads Diverged

_September 2015_

Gibbs had spent the summer in rehab sessions for his injuries from the two gunshot wounds he had suffered at the hands of young Luke Harris. He hated using the cane, but had been told it would help him heal faster by reducing stress to his knee injury. The joint was sore and didn’t bend like it used to. Although, his therapist insisted if he put in the work, the new knee would be working great in a month or two. Gibbs wasn’t convinced.

Ducky had visited him almost daily, often bringing with Jimmy along with him, and Abby had come by the house almost as frequently, always bringing food with her. Burley had taken temporary lead of the team, and kept himself, Bishop and McGee plenty busy. When they needed help, they had a series of TAD agents assigned to assist, none of whom really fit with the team. Due to the team’s heavy workload, they visited less often. Burley always came by on his days off. They would sit out back on Gibbs’ patio drinking beer while he caught Gibbs up on their current cases and accepted any insights he offered.

By September, Gibbs was restless and wanting to get back to work even though he hadn’t been cleared for fieldwork. He was tired of sitting around his house, and even though Burley would bring over case files to discuss, Gibbs was itching to do some real work again. 

The first day he was to return to work, he smiled. After taking a shower, he chose a white button-down shirt to wear with a dark jacket and slacks. He picked up a red tie, stared at it, then returned it to its spot on the rack. He didn’t feel like wearing a tie today. Taking a few minutes, he stared at a photo he had pulled out of the box Tony had left. It was a picture of him and Tony on a sailboat. He was pretty sure Tim had snapped the shot, but he didn’t want to ask. Gibbs had framed it and set it up on his dresser. It was a beautiful, sunny day and both men had broad smiles that lit up their faces. Looking at the picture always made him smile.

With a heavy sigh, he reached for his cane and left for the day. His first stop was the diner, where he ate his usual breakfast, and kept Elaine busy replenishing his coffee. He was always grateful that she gave him another cup to go no matter how much coffee he drank with his meal. Pausing outside the diner, he looked up into the sky. It was another beautiful, sunny day. But he wasn’t on a boat and Tony was…gone.

It was embarrassing to him when he entered the bullpen and everyone stood up and applauded. Despite his best efforts to glare angrily and ignore the standing ovation, all the other agents were determined to let him know they were happy to see him back. He’d barely reached his desk when Vance called from the floor above. 

“Gibbs. My office now, please.”

Gibbs nodded and started for the stairs, then looked at his cane and changed course, heading to the elevator instead. It took him a couple of minutes to arrive at the director’s office. The door was open and Vance’s assistant, Pamela, waved him on through, barely looking up from the stack of work on her desk.

Vance stood behind his desk packing a few things into a briefcase. “Welcome back, Special Agent Gibbs. It’s good to see you.”

“Thanks, Leon.”

“Have a seat, please,” Vance offered, motioning to the conference table. 

“I know, I get it. I’m not cleared for fieldwork, so I’m stuck at my desk for now.”

“Please, sit. I know you’re not cleared for fieldwork. My children have been bugging me to go to England. I’ve booked a trip for the family and their nanny. I understand you covered Director Shepard from time to time when she was away. I would like you to do the same for me.”

Gibbs glanced down at the desk and back to Vance. “It will leave my team short.”

“They’ve been short all summer. No worries though. I’m pulling an undercover agent back into the fold. He’s good. Nick Torres. He’s been working in Argentina for years until the Silva’s caught on he was a fed. I’m putting him on your team. He’s been back in the States for a few days, getting settled. If you get stuck you can call me,” Vance said as he picked up his briefcase. “Please, don’t get stuck.”

“We’ll be fine. Have a safe trip,” said Gibbs, as the director opened the door. 

“I plan to. And Gibbs, I expect you to wear a tie when you are handling director duties. I keep a spare in my desk if you need one.”

“Will do, Leon.” Using his cane, Gibbs walked over to the desk and stared at the pile of files and the other pile of papers. “Great.” Opening one of the drawers, he found a red tie that was surprisingly similar to the one he almost wore that day. Taking it out of the drawer, he set it on top of the desk. He’d put it on if he had a meeting today. He saw no reason to wear it while reading through files.

*********

Minutes later, he left the office and started to walk downstairs. The pain in his knee reminded him that he should be using the elevator. Stopping where he was, he looked out over the bullpen and whistled to get Burley’s attention. 

“Hey, Steve. Director’s office.”

Burley smiled. “Be right there.”

Gibbs waited at the top of the stairs for Stan to join him. 

“It’s Stan, remember?”

“What did I call you?” Gibbs asked.

“Steve.”

Gibbs shrugged. “You look like a Steve.”

“Yeah, I’ve kind of gotten used to it. What’s up, Boss?”

They walked passed Pamela’s desk without a word, then settled down at the conference table. 

“Vance is taking his kids and their nanny to England. While he’s on vacation, he’s leaving me in charge here.”

“Interesting choice.”

“I’ve done it before. Jenny left me in charge when she was away.”

Stan smiled. “I heard.”

“I can do this. Vance knows I’m bored at home, but I’m not cleared for fieldwork.”

“Sure, Boss. I didn’t mean to imply that I thought you couldn’t.”

“He’s arranged to bring another agent in to work with you on the team.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Nick Torres. Do you know him?”

Stan remained quietly thoughtful for a few moments before shaking his head. “No, I don’t recognize the name.”

“He’s been deep undercover in South America for several years. He got in deep with the Silva family. He’s been sending intel for years, but they recently realized he was a fed. We had to pull him out.”

“Oh yeah, I remember hearing about that case recently. I heard he got the daughter to flip on her dad and brother.”

“Vance said that was only after her brother tried to blow her and Nick up. He was willing to kill his sister to get rid of our agent,” Gibbs explained.

“I would have turned on them, too. That’s cold. Got the file on this Torres guy?”

After walking across the room, Gibbs leaned out the door, “Can you have them send up Nick Torres’ file from HR?”

Pamela nodded as she picked up the phone. A minute later she gently rapped on the door and entered. “Excuse me, Agent Gibbs. HR doesn’t have Agent Torres’ file.”

“How the hell can they not have a file on the guy?”

“He’s been undercover for years,” she said.

“I know that.”

Pointing to a lateral file cabinet across the room, she said, “UC agent files are kept up here, locked up with limited access. To prevent leaks. Director Vance must not have pulled his folder out of the undercover files, yet.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes. “Do you know where the key is?”

“Top drawer of the desk.”

Gibbs walked over to the desk and found the key. “Thanks.” After pulling the file, he and Stan scanned over it.

Burley threaded his fingers through his hair. “Looks like he’ll be a handful. He’s used to being on his own. He was down in Argentina for nearly a decade without regular backup.”

Gibbs patted Stan’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine with him. Vance said you did a great job all summer. The whole team did.”

Burley smiled. “We still need you, Boss.”

After they reviewed Torres’ file, Gibbs tossed it onto the desk. He’d have to check to see what paperwork needed to be filed, then he’d send it all down to HR. After locking up the lateral file, he placed the key back in the top drawer and set about reading all the case files Vance had left for him to review.

*********

A few days later, Nick Torres showed up at the director’s office, checking in with Gibbs. After calling Burley up to join them, the pair debriefed Torres and advised him he would be joining the MCRT. 

In response, Nick rolled his eyes. “I’m the best undercover agent NCIS has. Why are you benching me?”

Leaning back in his chair, Gibbs said, “It wasn’t my call. Your assignment came from Director Vance. And as he is currently out of the country on vacation, this is the assignment you have. If you want to question it, you’ll have to wait until he returns.”

“We have a great team,” Burley inserted. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy working with McGee and Bishop.”

Torres grunted and sighed. “If this is it, I guess you can show me to my desk.”

The pair left Gibbs alone with his stacks of files and reports. 

A couple of days later, Burley stopped by to let Gibbs know Torres was fitting in just fine. “I have to admit, Boss, I was afraid he’d drag his heels because I know he’d rather have been given another undercover assignment. But he’s jumped in with both feet and is doing a fantastic job.”

“Good to hear.”

The intercom buzzed to life. Pamela informed him, “HR says they don’t have the file.”

“What do you mean they don’t have the file? It’s got to be somewhere.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll ask them to keep looking.”

Burley shook his head. “Whose file is missing now?”

Gibbs bowed his head and sighed deeply, “Tony’s. I just wanted a look. I thought it would help with my memories. I remember more each day.”

“It’s crazy they can’t find his file. It should be over in the archives. I can send McGee or Bishop to check.” Burley could see the wheels spinning as Gibbs eyed the lateral file cabinet across the room. “What?” 

Rising from his chair, Gibbs returned to the desk and retrieved the key. Once the lateral cabinet was unlocked, he opened it easily and thumbed through the folders. “It’s here,” he announced, as he pulled the file and brought it over to the conference table. Holding his hand to his head, he quickly scanned through the pages, his heart suddenly started racing at what he saw. “Fuck! He’s not dead! He’s been working undercover. All this fucking time and he’s not dead! Tony is alive!”

“What? Are you serious?” Burley stood up quickly and moved to where he could read over Gibbs’ shoulder.

“According to the file, he was assigned to assist MI6 with surveillance in Buenos Aries, Argentina.”

“What? Why? Why fake his death? Why assign him to work with MI6?”

Gibbs licked his lip slowly and sighed. “The letter he left me, he said he’d asked to be reassigned. He wrote that he was brokenhearted that I didn’t remember him or our relationship. He said it was unbearable to work with me when I was so cold and distant to him. He asked to be reassigned.”

“But why fake his death?”

Pausing for a moment, Gibbs thought about it and sighed heavily. “He didn’t want any reminders of our relationship because it was too painful. He didn’t want anyone to come after him, especially me. If we all thought he was dead, we wouldn’t be looking for him.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Someone had to know. Jenny had to know. And Ducky. Damn it!”

“Ducky?”

“He did the autopsy. He wouldn’t have gotten it wrong. He had to have known.”

Stan shook his head in disbelief. “Shit. He’s known all this time?”

“I can’t believe they kept this a secret from me. All this fucking time!”

“Jenny would have ordered him to keep it a secret, Boss. You can’t blame him for following orders. I’m sure it was difficult for him.”

“I need to know what he knows. He may be able to fill in some of the blanks,” Pressing down the intercom, Gibbs demanded, “I want Dr. Mallard up here, now.”

“Yes, sir, I will let him know,” replied Pamela.

Gibbs flipped through the file again. “Argentina.”

“Yeah? So?”

“Torres was in Argentina for years. Their paths could have crossed. Get him up here!”

“On it, Boss.”

*********

Nick made his way down to Abby’s lab and gently rapped on the door as he entered. “Hi, I’m Nick Torres, the new agent on Burley’s team.”

Without looking up, Abby corrected him. “It’s Gibbs’ team.”

Walking across the lab, Nick began viewing Abby’s collection of photos and artwork. “Oh, okay. Yeah. Bishop sent me down to see if you had any results on the Robson case.” 

Pointing to her computer, Abby said, “Still waiting for results. We’ll have something soon, I’m sure of it. The timing is all off on the team. Gibbs needs to get cleared for fieldwork so he can come back, where he belongs.”

“I thought he was filling in for the director. I didn’t know he had a medical condition. Or whatever.”

“He was shot twice in May. They had to replace his knee and remove shrapnel from his chest. No worries though. Gibbs can pass his tests, no problem. He will be back,” she said confidently, with her head held high. “And soon.”

Nick stopped and pointed at a photo. “Why do you have pictures of this guy? Do you know him?”

Abby sniffled and sighed. “He used to be Gibbs’ senior field agent until he was killed.”

“Him? He’s dead? When was he killed?”

“Years ago, it’s been about eight years.”

“No, then it’s not true.”

“What do you mean?” asked Abby. “I tested the DNA myself. The tests confirmed the DNA was from Tony DiNozzo.”

“His name isn’t Tony.”

“Yes, it is. That is Tony DiNozzo.” 

“Unless he has a twin brother, that is Clive Paddington. I met him in Buenos Aries years ago. I just saw him a few months back, maybe March or April.”

Abby’s eyes open wide. “What did you say?”

“I said, that man in your picture is Clive Paddington. I met him in Argentina.” 

“And he was alive a few months ago? Are you sure?”

“Very much so. I’m a trained NCIS agent. I’m good with faces.”

“Oh my God!” Abby grabbed his hand and began running to the bullpen, pulling Nick along with her. “Tim! Tim! Tim! Wasn’t Tony’s mother’s maiden name Paddington?”

Tim was busy tapping away at his keyboard. “Yeah, why?” Tim asked, finally glancing up.

Abby was still clutching Torres’ hand and pointed to him. “He saw a picture of Tony and said he met him in Argentina and he’s using the name Clive Paddington.”

“What? No way. Clive Paddington was Tony’s rich uncle from England.”

Torres shook his hand free from Abby’s grip. “He did speak with an English accent most of the time. Sometimes when he was drinking it would slip. He’d sound American. I thought the British accent was a gag to pick up chicks.”

“How long ago?” asked Tim. “Maybe you met Tony’s uncle? How old was this guy?” 

“It was the guy in the photo. I’m positive. I think he was early to mid-thirties when we met a few years ago, maybe seven or eight. That would probably make him in his late thirties or early forties now.” 

Abby nearly bounced on her high-soled boots. “Tony’s uncle was way older than that. It has to be Tony.”

“But Tony is dead,” Tim said sadly. “How could it possibly be him?”

“The man in the photo has been in Argentina for years. He’s the personal assistant to another British dude, Riley Clayton, a very fit black man, six-two, likes to wear expensive suits except when he’s working out. Clive sometimes dresses up in a suit, but I’d often see him out walking or at the beach in casual clothing. I saw them out running together a few times. They’re both in excellent shape. Clayton told me that he rents, sells and maintains airplanes. Clive is his personal assistant, and a writer, too. I think he wrote travel articles or something like that. We met at a bar while I was working the Silva case. That’s how we crossed paths. I never knew they were undercover.”

“We have to tell Gibbs!” Abbey said excitedly. “Like right now!”

Just then, Burley stood at the top of the stairs and called down. “Torres! Director’s office. Now.”


	10. Open File

_September 2015_

Abby ran up the stairs, dragging Nick with her; Tim and Ellie trailed a short distance behind. Bursting into the director’s office, they found Gibbs at the conference table with his reading glasses on, poring over an open file. 

“Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs! Gibbs! We think Tony is alive.” Pushing Nick forward, she added, “He said he’s positive that he has seen Tony in Argentina just a few months ago. Tony’s alive, Gibbs! He’s using an alias.”

Looking up slowly, Gibbs replied, “I know.”

Abby’s expression dropped. “You know? And you didn’t tell us? Any of us? Gibbs, how could you keep that a secret from us? Why?”

“Have a seat, Abs. I only found out a few minutes ago when I pulled his file.”

A wave of relief washed over Tim’s face. “So, you weren’t keeping this a secret all these years?”

“No. I didn’t know until this morning. He was reassigned to undercover work in Buenos Aries. I asked Burley to bring Torres up here to ask if he ever saw Tony down there.”

Abby nodded quickly. “He saw a picture of Tony in my lab and said he’s in Argentina, using Clive Paddington as his alias.”

“I didn’t know he was NCIS,” said Nick. “He works for a black British dude named Riley Clayton.”

“MI6,” said Gibbs. “Jenny reassigned him to work in Argentina with Clayton Reeves, an MI6 agent using the alias Riley Clayton.”

“We weren’t super close, but we did hang out a few times. I had drinks with them and played a few games of pool, now and then. We even went to a couple night clubs together over the years.”

Gibbs pulled a couple of photos of Tony from the file and pushed them toward Nick. “Are you sure it’s him?”

After inspecting the photos, Nick said, “Yeah, I’m one hundred percent positive. It has to be him. He was a really sad dude. Sometimes I’d find him at a remote beach early in the morning. He’d stare out over the water for hours. I asked him about it and he said he’d lost the love of his life, but he couldn’t let go of the memories. I told him that memories are a good thing. They keep our loved ones’ memories alive and with us always.”

Turning to Abby, Gibbs asked, “And you didn’t know?”

“No, of course not,” she replied, affronted.

“You tested the DNA after the explosion.”

“And it was Tony’s. I swear. I would never keep that from you.” 

Nick’s eyes widened. “What explosion?”

Abby turned to face him. “Tony was working an undercover assignment a few years ago. He sent a 911 emergency text to Director Shepard. She tried calling, but he never picked up the phone.”

Tim picked up the story. “I pinged his cell phone and linked us into the traffic cam system from MTAC. We located Tony’s car. We didn’t see any signs of duress. He was driving at the speed limit; no one appeared to be following him. Then we saw his car explode. Director Shepard accompanied us to the scene. We saw evidence of a car bomb.”

At that point, Ducky arrived. “Oh my. Quite a party we have going on here. How can I be of assistance?”

“By telling the truth,” Gibbs demanded, tossing the file across the table. “You did the autopsy. You signed a death certificate. According to his file, Tony DiNozzo is alive and working undercover in Argentina. He’s been alive for all these years. You had to have known.”

Ducky walked to the table and took a seat. “Oh dear. I’ve dreaded the day this would all come to light. Please forgive me, Jethro. Director Shepard ordered my silence.”

“I know, Duck. I’m not mad at you. But now that the secret is out, I’d like to know exactly what happened. Tony wanted us to think he was dead. Why?”

“Yeah,” Abby added, tears welling in her eyes. “Why would he do that?”

“It was because you didn’t remember him, Jethro. He was so heartbroken. You found his letter and read it. He said in the letter that he requested to be reassigned. When his car was blown up he was not in it.”

“Obviously,” said Gibbs. “Who really died?”

“A Frenchman who worked for La Grenouille. Tony was in a limo with La Grenouille and his daughter. They were just ahead of Tony’s Mustang, on their way to breakfast, and witnessed the aftermath of the explosion through the rear window. Apparently, all three thought they were the target.”

“It was Tony’s car. He was obviously the target.”

“At any rate, after the explosion, they pulled over and all went their separate ways. Tony said La Grenouille immediately began to make calls; he wanted to secure safe passage back to France. Tony admitted to Jeanne that he was working undercover. That did not go over well with Jeanne. She bolted, in tears. Tony felt awful about it. Then he went to a motel, checked in under an alias and called Director Shepard. He suggested that if everyone thought he was dead, it would be a great way to slip him into the undercover program.”

“But the DNA, I tested it and it was definitely Tony’s,” said Abby.

“Director Shepard called me to meet her at the motel. Tony was already there. I took the samples and exchanged them at Director Shepard’s request,” Ducky explained. 

“I can’t believe he’s still alive. Gibbs, you have to bring him back,” Abby pleaded. “You’re the acting director. Can’t you bring him back? Please?”

Gibbs glanced at the file, then to Abby. “There’s a problem. Tony went dark a few months ago. No one knows where he is.”

“What do you mean? He’s in Argentina. Nick has seen him.”

Gibbs turned to Nick. “When did you see him last?”

Nick thought for a moment. “I’m not really sure. It’s been quite a while. March or April, I think. I’ve seen the guy he hangs out with more recently, Riley Clayton. He did ask if I’d seen Clive around, but I didn’t know he was missing. I remember joking with him that unless a body turned up, he should just assume Clive was alive and ran off with some chick that had chained him up or something. Honestly, I didn’t even think about it after that. I was caught up in my own case. But he hasn’t been around for quite a while, months.”

“We are going to find him and then we’re going to bring him home,” Gibbs said firmly. “Burley, Torres, with me. Bishop, McGee, see if you can contact MI6 and get any information from them on Clayton Reeves. I need to know what he knows.”

The group left the office together then split into groups. Gibbs led Torres and Burley to MTAC. “I need you to get the NoLa office online. I need to speak with Agents Pride and LaSalle,” Gibbs ordered the on-duty technician. 

Within a few minutes, Pride and LaSalle appeared on the screen in front of him. 

Pride spoke first. “How are you doing, my brother? I can’t believe Vance left you in charge.”

“Yeah, I know. I need to know what you know about Tony.”

“Tony?” Pride asked.

“Tony DiNozzo. There’s no need to pretend that you don’t know.” Holding up the file, Gibbs continued. “I know all about Clive Paddington, Randy Alvarez, and one Ken Pearson. I know you were both in Argentina in May looking for him. I know you’ve been in touch with Clayton Reeves, Tony’s MI6 contact. What the hell happened?”

Pride and LaSalle looked at each other, then Pride turned back to the screen. “We searched for him. Didn’t find anything. Clay said Tony’s car was found at a beach he liked to visit. The police searched the area, but said they found no sign of Tony. They think he drowned. They refused to investigate any further; said it was a waste of time.”

“Clayton and I think that’s a load of crap,” Chris interjected. “It wasn’t the sort of beach you’d go to for a swim. Tony liked it because it was usually empty. It was rocky and secluded. He liked to go there to think.”

“I know the beach,” said Torres. “I’ve seen him there. We talked a few times.”

“Tony wasn’t there to swim,” Chris continued. “Something happened on that beach. Pride and I checked it out, but didn’t find anything.”

“Who retrieved the car?” Gibbs asked.

“Clay did. He found the keys under a towel on the floorboards. It started perfectly and drove fine. No flat or anything either. Clay also said there were a lot of footprints around the beach when he found the car, more than normal. It could have been the local LEOs, but Clay thought Tony could have been abducted.”

“Why? Who the hell would grab him?”

“I have no idea.”

“You visited him there. Was he into anything dangerous?” Gibbs questioned.

Chris scratched his ear while he thought back. “His cover was that he wrote travel articles and was working as Clay’s assistant. He had some code with Director Shepard. Clay’s undercover is buying, selling, leasing and repossessing airplanes. They’re keeping an eye on bad guys down there. He tips off MI6 regarding potential bad guys and another team is sent in to investigate further and create detailed files.”

“Who the hell is looking for Tony now?”

“Clay said he and his team are still looking around, asking questions. Pride and I investigated the best we could, but we found nothing. It’s like he disappeared into thin air.”

“I want you both to write down everything you know; everything you did; anything you think might help, and send it to Special Agent McGee.” Gibbs signaled for the tech to cut the call after that. “Torres, tell me what you know. You said you’ve been to that beach with Tony?”

“Not with him. It is a good place to think. It’s remote. Most people wouldn’t go there. I was there for the same reason he was, to remember and think. It was usually empty early in the morning. It’s peaceful, looking out across the water. I saw him there a few times, but we never went together.”

“Can you think of any reason why anyone would be after him?”

“I’m not sure. I honestly didn’t know him that well. I had no idea he was NCIS. The locals thought he was from a wealthy family. But I don’t know who they would contact to ask for a ransom. If his cover was blown, why wouldn’t the same people have grabbed Clayton?”

“We need to come up with a plan. We need to find him and bring him home.”

*********

A week later, Vance returned from his vacation and called Gibbs to his office. “So, you know.”

“Yeah. I was pulling Torres’ file and found Tony’s.”

“You shouldn’t have read it,” Vance chastised. 

“I was acting director. It was my duty to look into things.”

“Not really,” Vance countered. “Your duty was to keep things running smoothly, not to go poking your nose through the UC files. Just for the record, after Jenny died, I reached out to all the undercover agents. I offered to bring DiNozzo home. He declined. He also told me that you all thought he was dead and he wanted to keep it that way. I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I respected his wishes.”

“It doesn’t matter how I found out. I did. I know he’s alive. I know he’s missing. We need to find him and bring him home.”

“I’ve called in both the CIA and FBI. They are both actively searching for DiNozzo, both in the US and abroad.”

“We need to be investigating his disappearance.”

Vance nodded slowly as he revealed, “I have two other UCs working the case. They’re in Argentina and…”

“Send me. Send my team,” pleaded Gibbs.

“You? You can barely walk. I don’t think so.”

“Torres had contact with Tony down there. He lived there for years. He knows the place and he knows the people.”

“I’m happy with the team who is on it. Your team has other cases to handle here in DC. However, as long as you all put in a full day’s work on your assigned cases, I won’t object to your team investigating DiNozzo’s case on their own time.”

Gibbs nodded slowly and turned toward the door. “Understood.”

*********

Taking the elevator down to the bullpen, Gibbs returned to his desk and announced to his team that Vance said it was okay for them to work Tony’s disappearance on their own time, as long as they kept up on their assigned cases. 

Standing up behind his desk, Burley cleared his throat. “Boss, can we have a word in private?”

With a wave of his hand, Gibbs signaled for Burley to follow him around the corner. “What?”

“I asked Vance to let me tell you. I’ve asked to be reassigned.”

“You what? Burley, we have work to do.”

“I know that, Boss. After that kid blew himself up on the bus, and Dorney was blown up in Egypt, not to mention the stress that comes from working as your SFA, I decided my heart lies in working overseas. I agreed to stay on while you recuperated.”

Gibbs took a few moments to silently ponder over Burley’s news. “Where are you headed?”

“Africa. Look, Torres is really good. And I think Tim is ready to take on being your SFA.”

“Do you think that’s your call?” Gibbs asked.

“No, of course not. I’m just saying, I wouldn’t leave you in a bind. You have good people around you. Tim’s a bit green, but he’s getting there. He’s up for the challenge. Torres is as solid as they come. Ellie, too. You don’t need me, Boss. I just feel I can make more of a difference somewhere else. Overseas.”

Gibbs nodded slowly. “You know I can’t stop you.”

“I promise you, the team will be fine without me.”

“Okay, Stan. I wish you well.”

Burley smiled. “I’m going to miss being called Steve.”


	11. Drunk and Naked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Terms:
> 
> Amigos: Friends  
Bueno, muy bien: Good, very good  
Caminar, ahora: Walk, now!  
El baño, por favor : The bathroom, please  
El jefe: The boss  
Gracias: Thank you  
Hablas inglés?: Do you speak English?

_October 2015_

Tony had long ago lost track of the days, or how long he’d been held captive. His only consistencies were the beatings, and spending a lot of time alone in the small cellar. There were days he was visited by the foggy image of Gibbs. Sometimes Tony tried to ignore the image. Sometimes, he had brief conversations with the imaginary figure.

While he still tried to get some exercise in, just to keep his muscles toned, he spent most of his time lying with his eyes closed, attempting to conserve energy. He thought a lot about Gibbs. He also spent a lot of time trying to figure out why he had been taken and what Ziva’s connection was with this group of men. None of it seemed to make any sense. 

Despite Gibbs’ image telling him he was on his own, Tony wondered if NCIS was looking for him. Clayton had to have noticed he was missing. Vance would certainly have noticed when he missed his check-ins. He probably would have sent Chris to investigate his disappearance and search for him. Someone had to be looking for him. 

“I just have to hold on,” he would mumble to himself.

*********

One day, he heard several people upstairs, including a voice he was sure with Ziva’s, which prompted him to bang on the cellar door and call out her name.

“Ziva! Ziva! What the hell? Tell me what the fuck is going on. Why are you doing this? Ziva!”

His calls seemed to escalate the yelling upstairs. It was all in Hebrew, so he didn’t understand a word. 

“Ziva! Stop the bullshit and tell me what the fuck is going on! Ziva!”

It seemed to anger her more each time he called out her name, but he didn’t care. “I’m fucking tired of being here. Let me go! Damnit, Ziva, what the hell is going on?” 

After more shouting, Tony heard a door slam. Moments later, one of his captors unbolted his door, and put a burlap sack over his head before unlocking his chains, binding his wrists and forcing him to walk upstairs and outside. He felt a leather collar being buckled around his neck and was certain a small luggage lock was used to secure it. From the cooler temperature and darkness, he could tell it was night as he was shoved into the back of a vehicle. It was obvious he was being moved again.

Tony had no idea how long they traveled, but eventually, the vehicle rolled to a stop and he heard people moving around, and Spanish being spoken. Several hands roughly grabbed him and forced him onto his feet, then pushed him. 

A male voice spoke close to him, “Caminar, ahora!”

Another shove caused him to stumble, but he was able to regain his balance before he fell to the ground. “Okay, I’m going. No need to shove me around.”

There were more words exchanged behind him as he was taken away. With the burlap sack still over his head, he couldn’t see anything, but was certain it was still dark out. No words were spoken as he was maneuvered into a small room, and pushed onto a narrow bed. It was an improvement, he thought. He hadn’t slept on a bed in months. 

After the door closed, a bolt slid into place, locking him inside. Sleep claimed him quickly despite the collar, his bound wrists and the burlap sack. He slept well despite the uncertainty of his situation. 

An image of Gibbs visited him during his slumber, and only looked sad and shook his head.

*********

Hours later, Tony was awoken by a man carrying an assault rifle who tugged the burlap hood off of his head and pulled Tony out of bed. A pretty, young woman stood behind the man, and waved for Tony to get up and follow her. He trailed after her down the hallway, as the man walked behind him. He found himself led to a bathroom with a large, clawfoot bathtub filled with water. 

The woman looked to the man, who lowered his rifle long enough to grab a chain that was attached to the wall and clip it to Tony’s collar. Only then did he untie Tony’s wrists. 

Tony shook his hands and flexed his fingers. The woman bit her lip, then stepped forward and began unbuttoning his shirt. Once that was tossed aside, she removed his shorts and underwear. All of his clothes were filthy as they hadn’t been washed in months. She then motioned for him to get into the tub. 

The water was comfortably warm and felt soothing. As soon as Tony had settled into the tub, the woman began bathing him, using soap and a washcloth. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and let her clean him. She scrubbed him from head to toe, including his nails, and also washed his hair, which had grown long enough to reach his shoulders. 

She didn’t say much but did tell him her name was Esmerelda. She seemed young and sad. When the bathing was done, she drained the tub and patted Tony dry with a coarse towel and unclipped the chain attached to his collar. “Come, please,” she said. 

The trio traipsed through the house with Esmerelda leading the way. He was led to a kitchen where another woman shaved his face, then waxed his chest, back and legs. He flinched and groaned a few times. Esmerelda then led him through a double door to a formal dining room. There were a few people in the room, including a couple of armed guards and women who appeared to be servants. They were constantly cleaning, or filling bowls, plates, glasses or pitchers, with a continuous trail to and from the kitchen. 

Using his hands, Tony did his best to cover his penis as he was led naked to the end of the table and forced to stand in front of a man who was obviously the boss. He was slightly rotund, short and appeared to have not shaved in a couple of days.

The man sat reading the paper as he drank coffee and ate pastries. Esmerelda and Tony stood very still for a couple of minutes under the watchful eyes of the guards, until the man finally looked up.

He stared at Tony for a few seconds before standing up and inspecting him more thoroughly. Reaching out, he ran his hand across Tony’s waxed chest. “Bueno, muy bien.” 

“Who the hell are you?” Tony asked.

The man immediately slapped Tony hard across his face. “You are not for talking. We use you.”

“Use me? For what?”

The man laughed and made a gesture like he was pumping his cock. “Fun times!”

The other men in the room joined the laughter. The leader nodded to Esmerelda and she led Tony back to the tiny bedroom.

“Hablas inglés?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Who is that man, el jefe?”

“His name is Rafael Ramos.”

“What does he do? Is he part of a drug cartel?”

She nodded quickly and avoided his eyes.

“I don’t think you’re happy here.”

Again she nodded, but continued to avoid eye contact. 

“You need to trust me and I need to trust you. I’m a federal agent, can you help me get out of here?”

Shaking her head briskly, she whispered, “No help. He will kill anyone who helps.”

“I have to get out of here.”

“It is impossible. Many armed guards. Huge guns. Many.”

Tony could tell she was extremely frightened of the men who were carrying weapons all the time. “I would like for us to be friends. Amigos? I could sure use a friend.” 

“You stay here and obey him, he will let you do more things. If you fight, you will be chained and hurt.”

Tony sighed and sat on the bed, wrapping the sheet around his body, like a cloak. “Got it. Can I have a TV or a guitar? Deck of cards? Clothes? Something to eat?” 

“I will ask.”

Several minutes later, Esmerelda returned with a guitar, and a bowl of fruit. “For you.”

“Gracias. Clothes?”

She shook her head and quickly left.

Tony searched the room and found that although there was a window, it was nailed closed and shuttered from the outside. No daylight came through. 

“Well, at least the chains and hood are gone,” he said to himself. In the whole time the other group had him, he was beaten, but never sexually assaulted. While he hoped Rafael had been joking, the fact that he had been waxed smooth did not bode well for him.

When he grew tired, he took a nap, then woke up and strummed the guitar for a while. Looking over the bowl of fruit, he found apples, oranges and peaches. He sampled a couple, then tapped on the door and asked if he could use the bathroom.

An armed guard escorted him. The bathroom had a very small window for ventilation. It was open, but there were bars across it. Tony also suspected it was way too small for him to squeeze through anyway. After using the toilet, he washed his hands and returned to his room. 

Around noon, Esmerelda brought him a plate of food and a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. Tony thanked her and found that the sandwich was made of sausage, or chorizo, and was on a thick, crusty bun that seemed fresh-made. There were also side dishes of potato chips and grilled vegetables. For dessert, he found a large cookie. The food was a great improvement over what his previous captors provided, as they appeared to be feeding him only what was left over from their own meals. 

He wolfed the food down quickly, not realizing how hungry he had been. A few minutes later, Esmerelda returned to pick up his dishes. She smiled when she saw the empty plate and asked if he’d enjoyed the meal. He smiled back and nodded.

Throughout the afternoon, he alternated pacing, playing the guitar and napping. He began making mental notes of things he’d like to have: a baseball, a clock, a calendar, a notebook and pen, something to read. So far, he’d have to consider this place a step up from his previous cellar abode. At least the food was way better. The bed was certainly nice after sleeping on a bare floor for months. No one other than the leader had raised a hand against him, yet. While he wore a collar, there was no hood placed over his head, keeping him in darkness, and no ropes binding his wrists together.

*********

Since his hands were free, Tony tugged at the collar, but failed to loosen or dislodge it. While he couldn’t see it, he could feel the small padlock. It wouldn’t take much to cut through it or pick it, if only he had the right tools.

Any time he heard footsteps in the hallway, he made certain he wasn’t caught trying to remove the collar. Most often, the people passed his room without entering. Every couple of hours Esmerelda stopped in to check on him. Late in the afternoon, she brought him a tray that included a small pot of tea, accompanied by two small finger sandwiches and a cookie.

“Stay?” he asked, motioning toward a chair. “Sit, please.”

Taking a seat, she smiled timidly and glanced around the room.

“I will never hurt you,” Tony said convincingly. “I was taken from a beach near Buenos Aries and held captive for months. Are you being held captive? Do they hurt you?”

She shook her head no, and smoothed her skirt. “My cousin brought me here to work. They are not nice, but I have a room and food. They pay me a little.”

“Can you come and go when you want?”

“No. Only sometimes. I go to church. I go shopping.”

“What work do you do here?”

“I clean, wash clothes and help in the kitchen,” she said, tucking her long hair behind her ear.

“Do you know why they want me? What am I doing here?”

“Señor Ramos, El Jefe, likes men. He likes handsome men. He likes American men.”

“He has had other men here, before?” he asked.

“Yes, some.”

“What happened to them?”

Turning away from him, she was quiet for a minute before she replied. “Some still here. Some gone. I do not know where.” 

“Did he kill any of them?”

“I hear things. Some die. The men get drunk. My cousin tells me to stay in my room when they get drunk.”

After eating, Tony picked up the guitar and strummed it. His voice was nearly a whisper when he asked, “They will take me out of this room?”

She only nodded in response. 

“Do you know where they keep keys to the vehicles?” 

Nodding, she offered, “There is an office.”

When he finished the tea, she reached for the tray. Tony grasped her wrist. “Where is the office from the dining room?”

“Down the hallway, it is the last room.” 

He watched her leave, then walked to the door before it closed. The guard eyed him suspiciously. 

“El baño, por favor.”

The guard let him pass by, then followed him down the hallway, and waited outside the door. When Tony emerged from the bathroom, the guard escorted him back to his room and locked the door.

Tony sighed heavily and settled onto the bed, looking up at the ceiling. He thought a lot about Chris and Clayton, wondering if they were still looking for him and how close they may have come to possibly finding him or realizing what had happened. 

His gut told him that Ziva was the key, if only someone could catch her making some sort of mistake, like saying she’d seen him recently. All they needed was a break in the case. Tony decided he’d have to do what he could to try to get to a phone, computer or one of the vehicles. There had to be some way to get a message out of this place.

Hours later, Esmerelda returned and led him back to the bathroom and bathed him again. As the bathroom door stood open, and the guard was standing a few feet away, Tony didn’t say anything. Closing his eyes, he relaxed and enjoyed the pampering; not wanting to think about what Rafael had planned for him.

After the bath, Esmerelda led the way down the hallway, to a doorway, and outside to a patio. There was a band playing, food being grilled and strings of lights illuminating the area. Tony looked up at the moon and stars. It was clear they were out in the country, far away from the city lights. Armed guards surrounded the patio area, which was in a courtyard, completely surrounded by the walls of the building. Tony counted six doors leading into the building. Each one was guarded. 

There were five others he saw who were naked and collared, three women and two men. They kept their eyes to the ground, not making eye contact with anyone. There were also four canopied tent-like structures. As he passed by one, he peeked inside and saw there was a king-sized bed and many large pillows strewn about, and also a couch and two chairs. 

Rafael smiled when Tony was led in front of him. He nodded to a woman and she handed Tony a glass and told him to drink. A quick taste revealed it was Malbec wine. As he drank it, the glass was quickly refilled. Usually with wine, but sometimes it was various hard alcohols, occasionally mixed with cola. It wasn’t long before Tony was drunk enough that he’d nearly forgotten he was naked, wearing a collar, being held captive and was most likely going to be forced into sexual acts before the night was over.

He found he was allowed to roam around and sample the food that was grilled. There was a wide variety of meats, fruits and vegetables. Two ladies were also busily making a variety of fresh bread. 

Tony was full, drunk, and in a nearly blissful state, when one of the guards grabbed his arm and led him in front of Rafael before forcing him onto his knees.


	12. Bombed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spanish Terms:
> 
> Ahora: Now  
Mi Americano: My American  
Mucho: A lot

_October 2015_

The fiesta was in full swing. Whatever they were celebrating, Tony wanted nothing to do with it, especially when he was forced onto his knees. All he knew was that he was plenty drunk, full of good food and ready to go to bed. Alone. 

Rafael smiled and ran his fingers through Tony’s hair and signaled for the band to stop playing. “Mi Americano!” he said quite loudly. He went on to tell everyone how fortunate he was to have acquired such a handsome specimen as his newest pet and how he was looking forward to using him. When he was done extolling Tony’s virtues, he nodded to one of his guards, and walked toward one of the tents at the corner of the courtyard and had the band start up again.

The guard grabbed Tony’s arm and lifted him to his feet before half-dragging him toward the tent. When they reached the entrance, the man shoved Tony inside, then closed the flap, standing a post outside watching the entrance. 

Tony had landed on an area carpet that was thick and dark blue. Lying there, he closed his eyes, quite ready to fall asleep. Rafael soon appeared and grasped Tony’s hair and jerked his head back.

“Americano, it is no time to sleep. You have work to do,” he slurred, obviously drunk. 

“Work?” Tony questioned sleepily.

“Get up on your knees.”

A heavy sigh escaped from Tony, earning him a sharp slap across his face. With his hands still grasping Tony’s hair, Rafael forced him onto his knees beside the bed. 

Once he released Tony, Rafael stood up and dropped his pants and underwear, revealing a thick cock. “You will do your job. Ahora! And if I feel any teeth, I will use pliers to pull each one out of your pretty head.”

A shudder shook Tony’s frame. It occurred to him that Rafael did not make empty threats. As much as he would have loved to bite Rafael’s cock right off, he had no doubt that if he displeased the man, he’d be ruthlessly beaten and tortured. Just the thought of having his teeth pulled out by pliers gave him phantom pains in his jaw. 

Reaching out hesitantly, he grasped the man’s cock and pumped it a couple of times before wrapping his mouth around it. Using his tongue, he licked around the head and along the bottom of the cock before taking it into his mouth again. Sucking a penis wasn’t a new experience for Tony. He’d had lovers, boyfriends and friends with benefits for many years. This time though, it wasn’t about pleasure. It was about survival. 

Rafael relaxed while Tony worked his cock and his balls. A few minutes later, he pulled back and grabbed Tony’s arm, then positioned him over the bed. His hands explored Tony’s ass, as Rafael moaned with lust. It only served to turn him on when he slapped each of Tony’s butt-cheeks several times, leaving them warm and red.

“You are quite a tempting treat,” he said, reaching for the lube. Standing close to Tony, he pressed in one slick finger, then added a second one. For several seconds, he worked his fingers in and out, then withdrew them. Using more lube, he pumped his cock a few more times, then pressed the tip against Tony’s hole. “Amazing!” he grunted as he thrust in fully. “You please me mucho.”

When he was done, Rafael pulled Tony fully onto the bed and fell asleep beside him. He awoke thirty minutes later, and pulled his pants back on and left the tent without a word. 

Tony remained where he was, lying on the bed, holding back the tears as he tried not to think about having been raped. The room was dark and spinning uncomfortably. Afraid he might throw up at any moment, Tony closed his eyes, focused on his breathing and tried to sleep. 

Hours later, he was awakened by Rafael wanting his morning hard-on taken care of. It was a terrible retake of the night before, only now, Tony was dealing with the dry mouth and pounding head of a hangover, as well as the bright, morning sunlight streaming in. It was far worse than the night before, but he was eventually able to bring Rafael to a climax.

Rafael stretched and called for his guard, telling him to return Tony to his room. By now, Tony was almost used to being naked all the time. No one in the house even seemed to notice, so he assumed it was a common thing for Rafael’s _pets_.

Back in his room, he fell into his bed and pulled the covers over his head. He really didn’t want to be disturbed, but when Esmerelda brought his breakfast, he used the opportunity to groan that he needed some Advil. 

“Is here,” she said, pointing to a couple of pills next to a glass of water.

He managed to slit his eyes open long enough to thank her. It took him several minutes to work up the strength to get out of bed and take the Advil. He guzzled the rest of the water and the glass of orange juice that was on the tray. Instead of the usual sweet pastries, he’d been given buttered toast. After staring at it for a couple of minutes while waiting for the Advil to take effect, he reached out and grabbed the first slice. It seemed to settle his stomach, so he ate the second piece before returning to bed.

Later in the day, after his noon meal, Esmerelda returned and told him it was time for his bath. Although he really just wanted to sleep, he pushed himself off the bed and followed her to the bathroom, then relieved himself before settling into the warm, comforting water. He nearly dozed off as Esmerelda lathered the soap across his skin and gently washed it away. 

As soon as he was escorted back to his room, Tony slipped beneath the bed covers and tried to go back to sleep. He knew Esmerelda was watching over him for the moment. 

“Esmerelda?”

“Yes?”

“Does he ever let his pets go?”

“I do not know what becomes of them. He keeps for a while. Then they are gone.”

Tony sighed heavily. The door closed gently when Esmerelda left the room. Lowering the covers, he looked up at the ceiling. “Why?” he asked aloud. “There is no reason to live. If I can’t be free, I may as well be dead.”

The shadowy figure of Gibbs appeared across the room and sat in the chair. _“I’m here, Skippy. You’ve got to keep holding on.” _

“Why?”

_“We are coming for you.” _

“Really? That’s interesting. You don’t even know where I am. I don’t even know where I am.”

_“Keep holding on. We’ll find you,”_ the image promised.

“You could ask Ziva. I’m pretty sure she knows where I am.”

*********

As the days passed him by, Tony’s life held no joy for him. Despite being well-fed, he found himself drinking a lot to numb himself from the pain inflicted by Rafael. He came to understand why most of those in the house generally appeared frightened or sad. 

In the afternoons, he would strum his guitar. If he could cajole Esmerelda into sitting with him, he would often quietly ask her questions. Through their discussions, he found that she came from a poor community. There were few jobs and little money. Her family did their best to grow their own food and sell what they did not need, but it simply wasn’t enough.

Her cousin Ignacio occasionally came through town, and always had a nice car, expensive-looking clothing and a handful of cash. Her parents had asked him if he knew of any work for any of their children. He agreed to take Esmerelda and her brother Mateo. She said that her brother worked out in the fields but she would see him only a few times each week. She felt fear for her safety here, but was thankful that her bedroom door could be bolted from the inside. When Tony asked if any of the men here had hurt her, she shook her head.

“I will not hurt you,” he promised. “Do you believe me?”

She’d stared into his eyes for a couple of minutes before nodding slowly.

Reaching out, he patted her hand gently. “I’m a good guy. I promise. If I can find a way out of here, I will take you with me.”

Shaking her head she said, “I cannot go. I have no other place to go. I have not much money.”

“This is not a good place.”

“I know,” she agreed. “But I must work. I must eat.”

Tony did enjoy her company and cared for her as an older brother would care for a younger sister. Sometimes she would sing to him in Spanish while he strummed along on the guitar. Other times, he would sing a favorite song to her, and she would smile back. Music was an escape they could both enjoy; a brief respite from their daily lives that were filled with hopelessness and fear.

Late in the evening, a guard would often come for Tony, and would escort him to the massive dining room inside the house, or to the central courtyard outside for the night’s festivities. It quickly became a routine of too much booze, having to service Rafael, and sometimes one or two of his men. It always left Tony feeling like he had no reason to live.

He wondered if Esmerelda would help him, by holding his head under the water in the bathtub until he stopped moving. It occurred to him that he could easily overpower her, and that she was truly too young to have a murder hanging over her head for the rest of her life.

While he did his best to make mental notes about the house and the people he came into contact with, the truth was that he was most often either locked inside his room, or he was being watched over by one or more of Rafael’s guards. 

At night, he’d lie in bed looking up at the ceiling, wondering if he would ever be free again.

*********

_November 2015_

On the nights Rafael held his fiestas outside, Tony often just slept in the tent. He’d found that the blue tent was to only be used by Rafael, while the others were available to his men. As Tony was the current prized pet, Rafael rarely shared him. He cringed when he saw some of the other _pets_ being used and abused by several men throughout a fiesta. 

Quite often, Rafael had business guests stop by. On those evenings he would host large dinners in the oversized dining room. Depending on who was around, Tony was sometimes summoned, and other times he was left alone in his room. No matter whether the dinner was in the dining room or out in the courtyard, Rafael and his guests were usually up late, eating and drinking into early morning hours. 

After spending some time at the compound, Tony figured out that his room was about as far away from the dining room and Rafael’s office as possible. It was diagonally across the courtyard. That meant that if people were out in the courtyard, he could hear that, however, if the late-night rowdiness remained in the dining room, it never kept him awake. 

Tony was always relieved when the guards didn’t come to get him for the evening meal. On those nights, Esmerelda or one of the other women would bring a plate of food to his room. In most cases, that meant Rafael had serious business to attend to and he did not want any distractions.

It was one such evening that Tony sat playing his guitar late into the evening. He’d finished his meal of pulled pork, beans and vegetables, and the beer that had been sent with it before digging into the flan, which was a rare treat. While no amount of begging had Rafael agreeing to open his shuttered window, Tony had been given a round wall clock. It made him less anxious to have an idea of the time. 

He’d also asked Esmerelda for a calendar, which she had snuck into his room, hidden beneath her skirt. Although it was small, it was current and he could mark off the days. It became his habit to mark off the day when he woke up in the morning, then he would tuck the calendar behind the headboard. From time to time, he would verify with Esmerelda that he had the correct date.

His calendar told him it was Friday, the thirteenth of November, but it had been an uneventful day. He’d found out from Esmerelda that there were many guests visiting that day. Tony had learned that usually meant he’d be left alone if they stayed in the dining room. If the dinner was outside, he could expect to be up for hours. It wasn’t much of a surprise when his dinner had been delivered to his room. And that was always a good reason for him to release a happy sigh.

When he became sleepy, he set the guitar in the corner, and crawled beneath the covers on his bed. Friday tended to be laundry day, so he was happy to have clean, fresh-smelling bedding to snuggle into. The temperature in his room was perfect, so he fell asleep quickly.

That night a parade of dream images danced before his eyes. Twitching in his sleep, he reacted to his remembrances of being abducted from the beach, then being held and beaten by the Israelis for months. An image of Ziva flashed across his dream. He still couldn’t see what her connection was with this or why she would have him targeted.

After waking once, he tapped on his door, asking the ever-present guard to allow him access to the bathroom. By now, he’d gotten used to never closing the bathroom door. Most of the time, he was just happy to have access.

Waiting for sleep to claim him again, he was tormented by the images he had of Ziva appearing outside the cellar door. After everything they had been through together, how could she have turned on him like that? What had he done to her, that she would have betrayed their friendship? The answers continued to elude him. It always stung knowing that she’d had a hand in all of this: his kidnapping, the beatings and now being held by a man who raped him when it pleased him to do so. 

Sleep eventually came to him again. This time it was Gibbs who appeared in his dream. He kept warning Tony to stay safe. It started as a mild plea, but dream-Gibbs became more adamant and vocal about it until Tony jerked awake again. 

This time, he heard a faint whistling sound. In an instant, he leapt out of his bed and turned it onto its side. As he hid himself beneath the small desk, he pulled the twin-sized bed up against the desk, with the mattress against him, and the frame holding it upright. Balling himself up, he made himself as small as possible and squeezed his eyes tightly closed. His breathing became erratic as he wondered if his dream-warning had any merit.

The whistling grew louder then ended with a loud explosion. Tony was certain Rafael’s compound had been bombed. Two more hits followed in close succession. He found it suddenly difficult to breathe and could hear the building crumbling around him. 

He remained still for several moments before trying to push the mattress out of his way, but found it wouldn’t budge. Pushing up on the desk or away from the wall didn’t seem to help either. Panicking, Tony suddenly felt very warm, and as if the oxygen was running out. His screams for help went unanswered and he wondered if everyone else was dead. Perhaps there was no one alive to hear him or help him. 

As his strength left him, Tony began to wonder if he was fading away into death himself. All he knew was that he was surrounded by fear and darkness, then he fell suddenly into unconsciousness as the ceiling crashed down above him, causing the desk to collapse and pin him to the floor beneath the crumbled remains of the building.


	13. Up In The Air

_November 2015_

Torres ran into the bullpen and looked to Bishop. “Ellie, where’s Gibbs?”

“Director’s office. What’s up?”

“Not sure, but it could be something. Maybe,” he said as he started up the stairs, taking two at a time. Moments later he knocked on the director’s door. “I might have something important,” he called.

Vance opened the door and waved him in. “Agent Torres. What is your something important?”

Nick walked over to the table and glanced at Gibbs, then Vance. “Do we have a way to reach Reeves in Argentina?”

“I do,” confirmed Vance, who remained standing, between Torres and the door. 

“I’m in touch with one of the agents down there now.”

Vance’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why?” he asked sharply.

“He wanted tips. Where to eat, where to shop, things like that. He just sent me a link to an online article. There was an explosion last night.”

“And you think Reeves is in danger?”

Still standing up, Nick gripped the back of a chair. “No, not that. The reports speculate that the explosion was at the compound of one of the cartel leaders. They’re estimating close to thirty dead from the blast. They did pull a handful of people from the debris, still alive. One of them is a man who matches Tony’s description. My friend has a contact who was at the scene and said the man is unconscious, and was found naked and wearing a collar padlocked around his neck. I wanted to see if Reeves would be willing to go to the hospital and verify whether it’s Tony or not. Please.”

Gibbs was on his feet in a flash. “I’m going down there.”

Raising his hand, Vance moved to block the way to the door. “Hold on, Gibbs.”

“That could be Tony down there,” Gibbs said loudly.

“And it may not be. I will reach out to Reeves. If he confirms it is Tony, I’ll let you and Torres travel down there and bring him home.”

“It’s him,” insisted Gibbs.

“How the hell do you know that?”

“My gut!” Gibbs shouted as he headed for the door. Torres was on his heels as he descended the staircase. “Grab your go-bag.”

Nick appeared surprised. “But the director said…”

“I don’t care. I’m going. If you rather stay, I’ll take Bishop.”

“I’m with you. Grabbing my go-bag.”

Ellie looked up. “What just happened? Where are you going?”

Gibbs walked quickly toward the elevator. “Following up on a lead.” 

As Ellie started to stand up, Nick motioned for her to sit. “Possible Tony sighting in Argentina. You and Tim need to hold down the office while Gibbs and I check this out,” he said as he ran to catch the elevator before the door closed.

“Oh my God! Text me when you get there.”

“Where are we going?” Nick asked as Gibbs punched the button that would take them to autopsy.

“We need a doctor. If it is Tony, I need medical personal on hand to make sure we can get him released.” 

It didn’t take long for Gibbs to explain the situation to Ducky and for the doctor to grab his own go-bag as he agreed to accompany them on their journey, leaving Jimmy in charge of autopsy.

*********

When they arrived in Argentina, they found Chris LaSalle and Pride waiting for them at the airport. 

Gibbs quickly asked, “What are you two doing here?”

Pride stepped toward him and pulled him into a hug. “Vance called and told us you took off. He sent us to intercept. We barely beat you here.”

“Do you know where this injured guy is?”

Chris nodded toward the exit. “Hospital. Still unconscious. We were waiting for you, so we could all go together.”

“Let’s go.”

The five of them piled into a taxi-van and went straight to the hospital. When the doctors tried to keep the group from seeing the unconscious victim of the blast, Gibbs flashed his badge and pushed his jacket back to reveal his weapon. 

“We believe your patient is a missing United States federal agent. We’re here to confirm that one way or another. He does not need to be awake for us to see if it’s him. If you refuse to tell us what room he’s in, we’ll just have to search every room until we find him.” 

Without waiting for a response, Gibbs pushed his way into the ICU ward and began peering into the rooms as he passed them. He saw a tall, well-dressed black man down the hallway on a cell phone, and was surprised when the man looked in their direction and motioned to them to join him.

“Riley!” LaSalle called as he stepped around the others and reached out to shake Reeves’ hand. “Is it him?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You think?” 

Clayton nodded to the door across the hallway. “Have a look. He’s been banged up a bit.” 

They all piled into the small ICU room, despite the doctors and nurses telling them there were too many people for the space. Gibbs stepped close to the bed. There was an unconscious man connected to a handful of beeping machines. His face was bruised, battered, swollen and bandaged. His hair was the same color as Tony’s but longer than he’d worn it, and in disarray. Stubble was growing in roughly on the man’s face, revealing that he hadn’t shaved for a while.

Everyone was crowded in close when Gibbs leaned in and lifted one eyelid, then the other. Next, he turned to Ducky, whispering, “It’s him. Can he travel?”

Moving closer, Ducky said, “Let me have a look at him.”

“Torres, can you read the charts for Ducky?” Nick nodded as Gibbs shooed the others out of the room. Out in the hallway, Gibbs said, “We’re going to have to figure out how to get him out of here.”

“They’re not going to want to release an unconscious man,” said Pride.

“That’s why I brought Ducky.”

“Does he speak Spanish?”

Gibbs smiled weakly. “That’s why I brought Torres. We are not leaving Tony here. I don’t care what we have to do or who we have to talk to. We need to get him back to the States.” 

Chris pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll call Vance. I’m sure we can get some military assistance.”

It took several hours of coordination before Ducky and Gibbs convinced the hospital staff that they would clear the hospital bill, and they were taking Tony with them, one way or the other. As Tony was still unconscious, an orderly was assigned to move him out to a van Reeves had hired. Chris was able to arrange for a military flight from São Paulo and Reeves had agreed to fly them that far in a small Cessna 207 he had at the nearby airport. 

The hospital allowed them to take an IV, and other medical supplies, as Tony was still unconscious. Torres reached out to a local contact who showed up with a backboard to assist with transportation. Tony was carefully moved from the gurney to the backboard, then was placed into the back of the van along with Gibbs and Ducky. The others called for a second cab to drive them out to the airport, trailing after the van.

While Reeves filed a flight plan, the rest of the group got Tony settled inside the cramped plane, then took seats themselves. Leaving Tony on the board, they were able to settle him onto the last row of seats, placing him across the aisle, balanced atop the armrests. Using various straps, they were able to secure him. Ducky and Gibbs took the seats directly in front of Tony. 

Before they took off, a car pulled up and a man in a suit brought two suitcases over, handing them to Reeves before shaking his hand and leaving.

“What was that all about?” asked LaSalle, who was sitting in the co-pilot’s seat.

Reeves closed up the plane and took his seat. “Not sure if my cover’s been blown here. I pulled all the strings I could on this one. MI6 is concerned, so they’re pulling me out of the region.”

“Sorry, man.”

“Don’t be. It will just be another chapter in my life. There is a new adventure out there somewhere, just waiting for me to show up.”

Chris reached out and patted Clay’s shoulder. “You’re a good man.”

“I’m just hoping he’s a good pilot,” said Torres, from the middle row. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

“I do have a checklist to go over, mate.”

“I’m just waiting for a group of bad guys to show up with automatic rifles and decide they don’t want to let us leave.”

“Why would that even happen?”

“I don’t know. Obviously, all three of us have tangled with some bad people over our time here. What if one of them is responsible for grabbing Tony, or blowing him up?”

Reeves continued down his checklist, flipping switches on and off, and occasionally communicating with the tower. “Well, mate, I have a story to tell, but you’re going to have to wait until we’re in São Paulo.”

“Why is that?”

“Unless any of you has his pilot’s license, I’m going to be a bit busy until then. Sit back and relax,” he said as he set the plane in motion. “Enjoy the ride, gentlemen.”

*********

Four hours later, Clayton gently landed the plane in São Paulo. There was a military cargo jet waiting for them on the tarmac. Their first concern was to get Tony safely moved and secured. Gibbs waved for Clayton to accompany them onto the new plane. 

“We need to know what you know. You’re coming with us. Vance has cleared it with MI6.”

Clayton nodded and grabbed his two suitcases. Stopping by the office, he requested approval to leave the Cessna until MI6 could arrange for another pilot to pick it up. 

The group was handed a case of water bottles and a box filled with MRE meals for the trip. At Gibbs’ request, they were offered coffee to go. 

The group strapped themselves in before lift-off. Once they leveled off, Gibbs motioned for Reeves to join him on the floor of the craft where they could sit close enough to hear each other over the roar of the jet engines. The others also gathered around.

They listened as Reeves provided the information he’d learned about the bombing. He explained that the target was Rafael Ramos, who was involved with dealing both drugs and weapons. The investigators were certain that a group of Israelis were responsible for the hit. 

“When Tony was found, he had a collar locked around his neck. I have a source who said it had a GPS tracker hidden inside. They think the Israelis grabbed Tony, and worked a few deals to send him to Ramos, with a tracker. Once Tony was delivered to the compound, which is part of a working farm, they only had to trace him, and observe. The explosion was caused by a shoulder missile launcher. They pulled up in a truck and fired three rounds at the part of the house where Ramos’ dining room, office and bedroom were located. They were determined to take him out, maybe others too. Another lead player was there that night wanting to work a large deal.”

“What did Tony have to do with any of that?” Gibbs asked.

Reeves shook his head, his expression solemn. “He was helping me a bit. I’ve been tracking Ramos for a long time, before he was a big fish. I’d just heard rumors the day before that he’d recently acquired an American.”

“For what?”

“He likes men. The rumor was that he’d arranged to buy an American man for sex. That’s why I was poking around. If only I’d heard about it earlier, maybe I could have gotten him out of there before this happened.”

“Tony was abused?” Turning to Ducky and Torres, he asked, “What was on his charts? Has he been raped?”

Ducky softly cleared his throat before speaking. “There was evidence of both sexual and physical abuse. Jethro, the important thing is that he survived, and is now safe. With our help, I am certain he can make a full recovery.”

The group remained quiet for a few minutes while they absorbed the information. Then Pride handed out a round of MREs. “What do the Israelis have to do with this? What’s their beef with Tony and Ramos?”

Reeves eyed the MRE, and sniffed it before taking a bite. “I’ve got no clue, really. I put some feelers out. I’ve been looking for Tony since he went missing. People around town knew him as my assistant, so it wasn’t out of line for me to be asking questions and digging around. I’ve put out a few rumors over the years that I work with various cartels; implying that I’ve done a few deliveries and sold a couple of planes. We set up MI6 contacts to portray my customers. Over the years, I’ve developed some contacts who are a bit on the shady side. I slip them a little cash and they share a little intel. We’re discreet enough that no one has connected the dots. So, I know Ramos was an up and coming threat in both drug and weapon trafficking. For all I know, he’s dabbling in human trafficking as well.”

Chris shifted slightly. “You mean, he was.”

“That is true. He’s been confirmed dead. There’s going to be a bit of chaos down there. Leaders were taken out. That opens up those positions to be taken over by others. They could be dealing with a bloody mess down there for months.”

Turning to Ducky and Torres, Gibbs asked, “What did you find out from the hospital?”

Nick rubbed his hand over his chin and looked Gibbs in the eye. “Tony was found in the back of the building. The roof had caved in and he was trapped in the rubble. They found him underneath a collapsed desk, with a mattress nearby. They’re not sure if he was in bed or at the desk when the missiles hit.”

“Why is he unconscious?”

“Just for that reason. The roof caved in and buried him. He was trapped for hours. They believe he received a blow to his head when the roof collapsed. They’re not really sure about anything, except that he was trapped under a lot of debris for hours. When they dug him out, he was unconscious. They sent him to the hospital.” 

“They had begun a battery of tests,” Ducky said, picking up the story. “He was clearly dehydrated, so they started him on an IV.”

“Did he ever wake up?”

“Not yet. They believe there is trauma to his head, but it’s not confirmed as to what extent. His vitals are good, Jethro. We just need to get him home and stable. He’ll come around. I’m sure of it.”

Gibbs nodded slowly, then went back to sit beside Tony. Twining their fingers together, he gave Tony’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on, Skippy. Open your eyes.”


	14. A Sinking Feeling

_November 2015_

Gibbs remained awake for the entire flight, and held Tony’s hand. The others all nodded off, but they took turns checking on Gibbs when they were awake. Ducky made sure Tony was stable. Pride made sure Gibbs had something to eat from time to time. Torres had the pilots teach him how to use the on-board coffeemaker and made sure Gibbs was well supplied with strong, black coffee. 

When they landed in DC hours later, Jimmy was there with the M.E. van and a gurney ready to transport Tony to the hospital. Ducky and Gibbs both stayed with Tony, while Nick took the rest of the group to a hotel near the Navy Yard, and made sure they were all able to get checked-in, then he took them out to dinner.

Due to the late hour, the nurses got Tony settled into a room and hooked up to another group of monitors with digital displays and occasional beeps. Gibbs grumbled at them and asked where the hell the doctor was. Ducky explained that they would need to run tests and the technicians weren’t on hand at this time of night. Eventually, an on-duty doctor arrived and spoke to Gibbs, Ducky and Jimmy. 

“I’m Doctor Carleton,” he began. “We have Agent DiNozzo scheduled for an MRI first thing in the morning. As he is unconscious, there isn’t much we can do until we can get some test results.” The doctor checked the monitors and looked Tony over. “His vitals are strong. That’s a good sign. If you would all like to go home and rest up, we’ll be sure to keep an eye on him. We can contact you immediately if anything changes.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Gibbs.

Ducky gently placed his hand on Gibbs’ elbow. “You’re exhausted. It won’t do any good for you or Tony for you to stay here overnight. You need to sleep. Tony is in good hands and you can come back tomorrow a bit more refreshed. Why don’t you bring in some keepsakes for him? Maybe a couple of photos?”

Gibbs eyed Tony longingly. “He needs me.”

“I know you want to stay. But the chances of Tony waking up tonight are very slim. It would be best for you to rest up and see him in the morning.” 

Ducky nodded for the door, and they walked to the front of the hospital. Jimmy ran ahead to bring the truck around. Gibbs fell asleep within minutes, so Ducky asked Jimmy to drop them both off at Gibbs’ house. 

“I’ll stay with him for tonight,” Ducky said. “He’ll want to go back to the hospital first thing in the morning.”

“If you give me a call, I’d be happy to drive you there,” offered Jimmy.

*********

Ducky spent the night in the guestroom, while Gibbs crashed on the couch. When Ducky came downstairs in the morning, he found Gibbs at the table, drinking coffee and reading the paper. There was a framed picture beside him, the one with him and Tony on the boat.

“Good Morning, Jethro. I see you’re wearing Tony’s fabulous gray sweater,” he said.

Looking down, Gibbs ran his hand over the sleeve. “Yeah. I thought it would be nice if he opened his eyes and saw something familiar.”

A smile spread across Ducky’s lips. “Perhaps a couple of familiar faces as well.”

“Is he really going to be okay?”

“His vitals are strong. That’s a very good sign.”

“Then why can’t he wake up?”

“You know very well that I cannot answer that. Perhaps we shall learn more today.”

They called Jimmy to come pick them up. After stopping for breakfast at the diner, they arrived at the hospital and made their way to Tony’s room, only to find the bed empty.

A nurse stopped by to inform them, “They took him for an MRI. They’ll bring him back soon.”

“Has he regained consciousness?” asked Gibbs.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid not.” She showed them to a waiting room that had a coffeemaker. “I’ll let you know when he’s back in his room.”

Gibbs drank a cup of coffee, refilled it and returned to the room to wait. Ducky followed along after him. With the sunlight streaming in, Gibbs stood by the window, looking outside.

Minutes later Tony was returned to the room and hooked back up to all the monitors. Gibbs studied his face. “He doesn’t look like he’s in pain.”

Ducky glanced over the monitors. “We have no way of knowing until he wakes up and tells us. You can talk to him if you like. They say hearing voices stimulates the brain.” Picking up the remote, he turned on the television and found a station that displayed various nature stills accompanied by classical music. “It is also said that music stimulates the brain as well. It certainly doesn’t hurt anything.”

Gibbs nodded and moved a chair closer to the bed. Taking Tony’s hand into his own, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I love you, Tony. I remember you. I can’t wait for you to wake up and come home with me.”

*********

The days marched by slowly. It was difficult to pull Gibbs away from the hospital. More often than not, he opted to sleep in the large chair in Tony’s room.

Reeves had been assigned to the Navy Yard at the International Desk. The team quickly learned that he was the acting liaison between NCIS and the CIA. Whenever Ellie, Tim or Nick felt they had a viable lead, they passed it on to Reeves. He kept all the information sorted and determined what may be useful, then he passed that information on to Vance and the NCIS agents working with the CIA in Buenos Aries. 

One day, Vance had Tim and Ellie bring Gibbs back to the Navy Yard for a meeting. The group met in Vance’s office, and included Reeves and Torres. 

“I need to be with Tony,” Gibbs insisted.

Vance turned to him and looked him over. “Are you getting any sleep?”

“Enough.”

Folding his arms across his chest, Vance looked at the team leader. “You’re not going to do anyone any good if you let your own health go.”

“Leon, I am fine. Let’s get this over with so I can get back to the hospital.”

Vance nodded to Reeves, then took a seat. Reeves took the seat at the head of the table and made eye contact with each of the others. 

“There has been some progress made in Argentina. It has been confirmed that this was a planned hit. I believe you are familiar with the person who orchestrated the ordeal, Mossad Officer Ziva David.”

Gibbs was taken aback. “Ziva? Are you sure?”

“Why would she have Tony abducted?” Tim asked.

Clayton tapped a file folder before him and opened it. “Some of the men involved were tracked down and questioned. According to them, Ziva had recognized Tony in Mossad surveillance photos. She had her father reassign her to Argentina on an assignment to monitor weapons sales. It took her months to set herself up as a weapons dealer. She worked undercover as Camila Costa from Brazil. As she spoke fluent Spanish, she was able to pull it off. Her team followed Tony, and abducted him from the beach, where he was isolated. They held him for months while Ziva developed her contacts. Once she was in, she orchestrated the sale to Rafael, and had the GPS-chipped collar locked around Tony’s neck.”

Gibbs was steamed. “What the hell was her beef with DiNozzo?” 

Taking a moment, Reeves tapped a pen on the table, his eyes scanning a page in the file. Looking up, he said, “I’m not sure she had one. There are some notes that she was upset at NCIS for sending her back to Israel, but the file indicates that she saw him as an opportunity to get this guy, Rafael Ramos. Apparently he was selling weapons to Israel’s enemies and Ziva learned he had a fondness for American men.”

Shifting in his seat, Vance spoke up. “It doesn’t appear that DiNozzo was targeted at the compound. He was on the other side of the house, and he survived.” 

“There was no evidence that he was targeted in the hit,” Reeves confirmed. “The target was definitely Rafael Ramos. I don’t think they cared one way or another if Tony was injured or killed. He was simply a pawn to deliver a tracking device.”

“Is Ziva in custody?” Gibbs asked.

“Not yet. They’re searching for her. The investigative team believes she has returned to Israel.”

Vance shook his head. “I can make a call, but there is no way Eli is going to turn his own daughter over to anyone.”

“So she’s going to get away with this?” Tim asked.

“There is a warrant out for her arrest. The CIA is relentless. If they ever find out that she’s left Israel, they’ll grab her. There is no way she will ever set foot in the States again without getting arrested.”

Pushing back his chair, Gibbs disclosed, “I have to get out of here. I have to be with Tony."

Tim started after him until Ducky reached out and grabbed his arm. “Timothy, the best thing to do is to let him be. There are cases that are in need of your attention. Gibbs needs to be with Anthony. He’ll want to be there when he wakes up.”

Rising to his feet, Vance agreed. “Agent McGee, you’ll need to continue to lead the team while Gibbs is away. If you and the team would like to visit with him, you may all do so after your shift. We have work to do. Officer Reeves, thank you for the briefing.”

*********

Gibbs had a few weeks of vacation time available. He was adamant that he needed to be at Tony’s side. The director agreed that until Tony was awake, it would be difficult for Gibbs to focus on cases at work, so he approved the time off. 

It didn’t take Gibbs long to reach his pickup truck and drive to the hospital. He’d figured out the best place to park to access the quickest route to Tony’s room. The hospital staff had become acquainted with Gibbs and understood his intention to stay with Tony as much as possible. He’d made it clear that he didn’t give a crap what their visiting hours or policies were. As a federal agent, he insisted that he needed to be there in case Tony came to and began revealing confidential information.

While Gibbs mostly subsisted on copious amounts of black coffee, the nurses encouraged him to order meals. They soon learned his favorite choices and would often order something for him if he forgot. 

One day Gibbs was awoken by a flurry of activity in the room. Blinking his eyes, he focused on Tony. “What’s going on? Is he okay?”

A nurse named Amanda, turned with a smile, “He’s awake.”

Pushing passed another nurse, Gibbs reached for Tony’s hand and used his other palm to cup Tony’s head. “It’s good to see you awake,” he said.

Tony stared at him, with no recognition in his eyes. He didn’t speak. 

Gibbs turned to the medical staff. “Is he okay?”

Dr. Fuller stepped around the bed and nodded for Gibbs to join him out in the hallway. “At this time, we are still assessing his condition. His vitals are strong and his brain scans are good.”

“Then why isn’t he talking? DiNozzo is normally a chatterbox.”

“He’s been unconscious for several days. It may take a while for him to sort out everything that has happened. He will also need physical therapy.” 

Gibbs called Ducky and asked him to come to the hospital at once. He would always trust Ducky more than any doctor at Bethesda.

Ducky arrived several minutes later, smiling broadly. He patted Tony’s hand. “My dear Anthony, it is so good to see you awake.”

Tony eyed Ducky, looking him over carefully, but made no effort to speak. 

Turning back to Gibbs, Ducky said, “Dr. Fuller filled me in.”

“And?”

“He’s going to be fine, but he has some work ahead of him.”

“Then why can’t he speak?”

Walking over to the nightstand, Ducky picked up the photo of Gibbs and Tony on the sailboat. He looked it over for a moment, then showed it to Tony. “Do you remember this day?”

Tony’s eyes dropped to the photo and he studied it. He looked from the photo to Gibbs, then back to Ducky. “No,” he said softly. 

“That’s quite alright. I’m sure it will come back to you. Do you remember Jethro?” he asked, indicating Gibbs.

Tony looked behind Ducky, focusing on Gibbs. A few moments later, he replied, “No.”

Gibbs’ heart sank.


	15. The Road To Recovery

_November 2015_

Three days after he woke up, Tony was moved to a rehab center, where they trimmed up his hair to match a photo Gibbs had provided. As his injuries were healing and the bruises were fading, Tony was beginning to look more like he had before he had left for Argentina. 

When Vance learned that Tony was conscious, he called Gibbs and insisted it was time for him to get back to work, and just visit in the evenings, after work. As in the hospital, Gibbs planned to continue his daily visits, and allowed the rest of the team to each come in once a week on different days so Tony wasn’t too overwhelmed. 

After a day of evaluations at the rehab center, Ducky and Gibbs attended a meeting with Tony’s doctor.

“I’m Dr. Daniel Brooks and will be serving as Mr. DiNozzo’s primary physician during his stay. He is experiencing some memory loss due to head trauma. He believes he is an officer with the Baltimore police force.”

Gibbs nodded slowly. “He was, before he came to work for NCIS.”

“He is also having some issues with his motor skills. The hospital started him on speech, occupational and physical therapy programs. We will continue the same programs at an accelerated pace.”

Gibbs took in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “Will he ever regain his memories?”

“That’s hard to say. It is possible. Or he may have recovered all that he ever will. However, he has displayed the ability to develop and retain new memories, which is promising.”

Gibbs’ heart sank with disappointment. “Are you saying that he may never fully recover his memories?”

The doctor steepled his fingers as he sat thoughtfully for a moment before replying. “I’m afraid that is something we cannot predict. He may recover more memories, and he may not. At this point, we can only wait and see. However, he is retaining current memories. He can start to rebuild new relationships going forward, whether his old memories return or not.”

Ducky cleared his throat and faced Gibbs. “Your memories returned, eventually.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“We just need to give him some time,” Ducky assured him.

Turning back to Dr. Brooks, Gibbs asked, “Can we take him home for Thanksgiving dinner? Ducky, do you have a spare room he can use?”

“Certainly, I have room for both of you, if Dr. Brooks is agreeable.”

Dr. Brooks shook his head. “I really do not advise it. However, I will allow it as Dr. Mallard has medical knowledge. Due to a short staff on the holiday, you would need to pick him up on Wednesday and keep him until Friday.”

“I will make the arrangements. Can he walk, or will we need to borrow a wheelchair?” Ducky asked.

“He is able to walk if you don’t rush him. He doesn’t like to use the cane, but his movement is greatly improving each day. By Thanksgiving, he may be doing fairly well.”

“What about Christmas?” Gibbs asked.

“If he continues to improve at his current rate, I expect to release him by then.”

Gibbs continued to visit Tony often and took to telling him stories and showing him photos, not only of their life together, but of the entire team. Occasionally, he would bring in old files for Tony to go over, hoping the cases would spark some memories.

Tony would stare at the photos, while Gibbs told him the stories behind the pictures. “I wish I could remember.”

Reaching out, Gibbs would cup Tony’s cheek. “You will, one day.”

The day before Thanksgiving, Ducky and Gibbs used one of the sedans from NCIS to pick Tony up. Using a cane, Tony moved slowly, but was able to walk to the car on his own. Gibbs sat in the back with him. They eyed each other through the trip, but neither one spoke until they arrived at Ducky’s house. 

“I had my cleaning lady make up the guest bedrooms with fresh linens,” said Ducky. “I apologize for all the stairs.”

“I think I can manage,” Tony said softly, carrying his bag in one hand and the cane in the other. 

“How about a couch?” suggested Gibbs. 

As they parked in the back, Ducky led the way toward the brownstone. “I’m afraid there is no bathroom on that floor. I would be concerned that Tony may have trouble managing the staircase at night. I’d be happy to give up my bedroom for a night or two.”

“A couch or a guest room will be fine,” Tony said sharply, insisting on carrying his own overnight bag up the stairs. “Just point me to the room. I can manage.” 

Ducky led the way, followed by Tony and Gibbs. They entered through the rear of the dwelling, then climbed the stairs to the second floor which held the living room in the front and a library in the back. The next floor up was Ducky’s study in the front and his bedroom to the rear. One more flight of steps brought them to a pair of guest bedrooms, each with a private bathroom. 

“Let’s put Tony into the back bedroom,” suggested Ducky. “It’s the closest one to the stairs. 

They all trooped in to find the room tastefully decorated mostly in shades of pinks and whites forming floral patterns, with a canopy bed. Tony tossed his bag down on the armchair. “It’s fine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to rest for a while.”

“Certainly. If you need a hand, just call.”

Gibbs dug out his flip phone and handed it to Tony. “Just ring Ducky.”

Tony took the cell phone and placed it on the nightstand. “I’m sure I will be fine.”

Gibbs took his own bag across the hall to find a bedroom that was decked out in shades of blue and gray. He smiled and dropped his bag on the bed before returning to the head of the stairs. Leaving Tony to rest, the other two returned to the living room, which Ducky liked to call the front parlor. 

There was a small bar at one end of the room, from which Ducky produced two glasses and a bottle of scotch. Taking a seat near Gibbs, he neatly poured a bit of amber liquid into each glass and handed one to his guest.

Gibbs released a deep sigh as he accepted the drink. 

“I know it’s not easy for you, Jethro. But remember, he went through the same thing with you, when you had amnesia after that explosion while you were making contact with Galib.”

“I know, Duck. I just really miss him; the way he was.”

“I understand. It’s quite a conundrum to miss a man who is here with us.”

“It’s not the same. He doesn’t remember us.”

“After the explosion you were in, you left for Mexico. Even when you came back, your memories were spotty. You didn’t even remember that you and Tony were in a relationship until long after Tony had left.”

Leaning back in his seat, Gibbs took a drink of the scotch, then settled the glass back on the table. “And then it was too late. He was gone.”

“But he’s back now. This is a second chance for you both. He just needs a little more time. Dr. Brooks said Tony is making wonderful progress,” Ducky said encouragingly. 

“I was hoping that being with the team would help.”

“Only tomorrow knows.”

Upstairs in the guest room, Tony relaxed in the bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wanted so much to remember his past.

*********

The next morning, Gibbs woke Tony up with a gentle shake of his shoulder. “Ducky’s making blueberry pancakes for breakfast.”

With a yawn and a stretch, Tony opened his eyes slowly. “And bacon?” he asked.

Gibbs chuckled. “Yes, he remembered that you like bacon. After we eat, I’ll help you with your exercises.”

“Isn’t this a holiday?”

“Yes, but if you want to get better, you have to put in the work. Let’s go.”

After lying in bed for days, Tony’s range of motion had deteriorated and he walked with a limp, due to the stiffness in his body. Upon returning back upstairs after eating, Gibbs pulled out a list of exercises Dr. Brooks had given him, which included the recommended number of reps and detailed instructions on how to perform each exercise. For the most part, he just had to make sure that Tony did them, but when needed, Gibbs could lend a hand. The exercises helped with his range of motion and getting his motor skills working properly again. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony blurted out suddenly.

“For what?”

“That I don’t remember anything.”

Gibbs smoothly stretched Tony’s arm out, then returned it to his side before repeating. “It’s not your fault.”

“I can tell we were close. I can see it in the pictures. I hate that I can’t remember.”

“Let it come to you. My memories came back, eventually,” Gibbs said encouragingly. 

“What happened to your memories? How did you lose them?”

“Got blown up. You and the rest of the team were on surveillance and I was meeting with a contact. I was in a coma for several days, then it took months before my memories came back.”

“We’re quite a pair then. You lost your memory, then I lost mine,” said Tony, his eyes meeting Gibbs’. “I was told the house I was in was blown up and I was in a coma for five days.”

Running his hand over Tony’s arm, Gibbs smiled. “I suppose you could say, we’re made for each other.” It warmed his heart to see Tony smiling back at him.

After an hour of working out, Gibbs assisted Tony into the tub to wash up. Tony froze as Gibbs bathed him.

“Is the water too hot or too cold?” Gibbs asked.

“No. I just remembered something. I think. Maybe.”

“Something about me? Us?”

“No. A pretty girl. Esmerelda. She would bathe me and sing to me in Spanish. Her face is so clear, but I can’t place where I know her from.”

“You were in Argentina for years. Maybe she was a girlfriend?”

Tony shook his head. “Too young for me. Late teens, maybe very early twenties. Dark eyes, dark hair. I think she did my laundry.”

“And gave you baths?”

“Apparently.”

After insisting that Tony take a nap before going downstairs, Gibbs made his way to the kitchen to talk to Ducky. “He just had a memory from Argentina.”

“Well, that is rather promising.”

“How can he have memories from Argentina, but not remember me or NCIS?”

“Recovering memories is not a linear achievement. Memories can jump and skip around. That’s how they’re stored. What was the trigger, if I may ask?”

“I was helping him in the tub. He remembered a young woman bathing him. He said she sang and spoke to him in Spanish. That has to be a memory from Argentina.”

“I know it is a slow process, but this is a promising event. He is still actively regaining memories. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Jethro, there are no certainties in cases like this. Tony is a strong, healthy young man. If anyone can make a full recovery, it should be him.”

By noon everyone had arrived. The kitchen was bustling with Ducky, Abby, Ellie, Breena and Jimmy. Gibbs, Tim, Nick and Clayton sat upstairs in the front parlor, sipping on scotch and trading stories. Ducky pulled out a foldable card table, a deck of cards and some poker chips for his guests. 

A few minutes later, Jimmy brought them a relish tray to snack on. “The turkey looks amazing,” he said with a smile. “Everything does. We’re all going to be sharing a fantastic meal, with fabulous company.”

Tony came downstairs a few minutes later. Abby ran across the room to hug him, then Tim stood up and also greeted him with a hug. “I’m so glad the rehab center let you spend the day with us. It’s so good to see you.”

“Thanks,” Tony said stiffly as he glanced over the available seats. He opted for the end seat on a sofa and settled in. 

“Can I get you something to drink?” Tim asked.

“Water. Please.”

“We have some scotch or wine,” offered Tim.

“I’m not supposed to drink alcohol,” Tony replied uncomfortably. “Doctor’s orders.”

Tony refused any assistance in going down the steps to the dining room when the meal was ready. Ducky insisted that Tony sit at the head of the table, which gave him plenty of room. Throughout the meal, he remained fairly quiet, although he ate well and did accept slices of two types of pie.

At the urging of Ducky, Tony used his cane most of the time he was there. He never complained about the vast number of stairs, although he did make a point of stopping in the parlor after the meal, rather than going straight up to his room. Jimmy, Breena and Ellie helped Ducky clean the dishes and put away the leftovers before they all joined the other guests in the parlor.

Abby sat on the sofa beside Tony. “We missed you so much.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“You really don’t remember any of us, yet?”

“Sorry, no.”

“Not even Gibbs?”

Craning his neck, Tony looked across the room at Gibbs. Lowering his voice, he replied, “No. I wish I did. But no. He showed me some pictures.”

“And nothing sparks a memory?”

“I think I remember being on a beach. He showed me a picture of us on a boat.”

Torres moved one of the lighter parlor chairs over near the pair. “You said you remember a beach?”

“Yeah. I remember standing on a beach, looking out over the water…”

“And holding on?”

Tony’s brows furrowed. “Holding on?”

“I used to hang out at the same beach. We ran into each other there a few times. You used to always tell me you kept holding on to your yesterdays.” 

“I remember…,” Tony began slowly, “pockets full of sand.”

“What does that mean?” Torres asked.

Tony looked up at him. “I don’t know,” he said as he glanced down at his hands, and flexed his fingers. “Holding on. Pockets full of sand.” His hand went to his neck. “Collar.”

The others paid attention and gathered closer. 

Reeves asked, “You were captured on a beach. They put a collar on you. Do you remember?”

“I’m not sure,” Tony nearly whispered. Raising his hand to his head, he looked to Ducky. “Do you have some Advil?”

Rising to his feet, Ducky said, “No worries, I will find you something.”

After delivering a glass of water and two pills to Tony, Ducky returned to his seat. The entire group focused on watching Tony as he swallowed the pills down. When he saw all the eyes staring back at him, he quickly excused himself and went up to the guest room, refusing any offers of assistance.

“Well, that was awkward,” said Ellie.

Turning, Gibbs glanced at the staircase. “Yeah. I’ll go check on him.” 

Nick got up and went after him, catching up to him on the steps. “Gibbs, wait.”

“What?”

“He remembers the beach.”

“Yeah?”

“I think he remembers standing on that specific beach in Argentina. We talked a lot about how he was holding on to his yesterdays. He said that every single time we talked on the beach. It was a song. Sometimes he would sing a few lines.”

Growing impatient, Gibbs asked, “What’s your point?”

“When he’s released, I think you should take him back to Argentina, to that beach.”

“You want me to take him back to Argentina, where he was abducted and survived a mortar round?”

“He remembers the beach. If he went there, saw it, touched it, smelled it, I think it could spark more memories. I think it’s worth a shot.”

“Hmmm.”

“I can go with you,” Nick offered.

“Why?”

“Because, I was there with him. I know where he stood, how he looked across the water. I can set the scene exactly how it was. Come on, Gibbs. Let me do this. Please.”

Gibbs’ eyes were drawn upward and he took another step. “I’ll think about it.”

Once he reached the top floor, he knocked lightly on the door of Tony’s room before entering. “Are you okay?”

Tony nodded quickly, then finished brushing his teeth, while Gibbs took a seat at the end of the bed. Wiping away a stray bit of toothpaste with the back of his hand, Tony returned to the room, sitting on the bed next to Gibbs. “I’m sorry. It’s just a bit overwhelming sometimes. I know I should know them all and I can tell they care. But I just don’t remember them. It’s difficult when everyone in the room is staring at me like they’re expecting my memories to return any second.”

“It’s okay,” said Gibbs as he placed an arm across Tony’s shoulder.

Dropping his head into his hands, Tony huffed. “It’s not okay. I wish the memories would just be there. What if I never remember anyone?”

“Stop trying so hard, okay? The memories will come eventually, but you can’t rush them. Dr. Brooks said you should focus on making new memories. Did you enjoy dinner tonight?”

Looking up, Tony nodded. “Yeah. It was good.”

“Now you have a memory with all of us. You can build on that.”

Leaning his head onto Gibbs’ shoulder, Tony sighed. “I can do that.”

“You’ve come a long way. You know everyone’s name and you’ve talked to them all when they come to visit. We all had a nice holiday dinner together. That’s the new start. That’s where you begin adding your memories back in.”

“Do you think I’ll ever really fully remember my past?” Tony asked, looking up, into Gibbs’ eyes.

“Absolutely. You remembered Esmerelda. You remember the beach. I think your synapses are slowly waking up, or maybe your brain is building new pathways to your old memories.”

“Even if I don’t remember everything, I really appreciate all the time you spend with me. I can’t imagine having to do this on my own,” Tony said, as he sniffled and choked back a tear.

“You’re worth it.”

“Did I help you when you lost your memory?” Tony asked.

“You did, sort of. I actually left. I went to Mexico and spent the summer with my old boss. My memories started to come back slowly, and I came back to work. And you left.”

“Why did I leave?”

“Because I didn’t remember you. Then I found a box you’d left in my closet. You had carefully chosen each item: your gray sweater that still smelled like you; books, CDs and DVDs we’d shared; lots of photos. And you wrote me a letter explaining why you left. I don’t know if it was the sweater, or the letter, or what, but I started getting my memories back; memories of us together. And I missed you so very much.”

“Why didn’t I come back? Did you ask me to come back?”

“I couldn’t. You were gone. Your car was blown up and we all thought you were in it. We had a funeral and everything. I thought you were dead. For years, I thought you were dead and I grieved your loss.”

“Oh wow. That must have been difficult.”

Brushing his hand through his hair, Gibbs replied, “Yeah, it was. I finally remembered you, and us, but I thought you were dead. I thought it was too late. And now, I’ve found you again. I am here for you, Tony. I will always be here for you, no matter what.”

*********

The next morning, Gibbs took a shower early, then went down to the kitchen in search of coffee. Thankfully, Ducky was always an early riser and knew exactly how Gibbs liked his favorite brew. 

The pair sat down to breakfast together, each browsing through a section of the paper. Ducky had prepared a light meal of scrambled eggs and toast, accompanied by orange juice.

After several minutes of silence, Gibbs neatly folded the section of the newspaper he’d been reading and set it aside. “Torres thinks we should take Tony back to Argentina.”

“Really? For what reason?” Ducky asked as he reached for his tea.

“He is certain that Tony’s recollection of a beach is the one in Argentina. Both Reeves and Torres said Tony would often go to a beach to think.”

“You would have to wait until he’s released from rehab.”

Gibbs looked Ducky in the eye. “Is it a good idea? Could this help with his memories."

“There is no standard when it comes to recovering memory loss. It does appear that some of his memories are returning. Being at the beach may spark memories. Or it may not. There is no certainty. The only way to know is to take him there and try. Do they know what it was that Tony would think about at the beach?”

“Torres said Tony would often speak of a lost love, and would say he kept holding onto his yesterdays. Torres said Tony would often sing this song called _Holdin’ On To Yesterday_.”

“And you’re wondering if a trip to this Argentinian beach would jog his memories about your relationship?”

“Yeah,” admitted Gibbs.

“Perhaps a trip to the beach would be just what the doctor ordered.”


	16. True Love Never Dies

_Late December 2015_

When Tony was released from rehab, he moved in with Gibbs as he was not allowed to live alone due to his medical conditions. Tony grumbled slightly even though he had nowhere else to go. Right from the start, Gibbs insisted that he would sleep on the couch and let Tony take the bedroom. After all, he’d hated sleeping in the bed alone and had gotten used to spending his nights on the couch in the living room.

Torres reached out to the agents currently assigned in Buenos Aries and gave them directions to get to the beach. At his request, they took several photos and sent them to him. Once he printed a few of the best ones out, he gave them to Gibbs to show to Tony.

Gibbs placed all the photos on the table and watched as Tony inspected each print. “Anything look familiar?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe.” Tony picked up some of the prints, taking a better look. After a few minutes, he reorganized the prints and looked them over again. “I feel something, but I’m not sure what.”

“That’s okay. We knew it was going to take time. Torres is arranging a trip. He wanted to take you to the beach in person.”

Lifting his eyes from the prints, Tony looked at Gibbs with a worried expression. “Aren’t you going?”

Gibbs rested a hand on his shoulder, and assured him, “Yeah, I’ll be there, too. It’s going to be fine.”

After disappearing for a few minutes, Gibbs returned with a box and settled it onto the table. He’d also brought down the gray sweater and tossed it to Tony. “It’s yours. Maybe wearing it will help.”

“And either way, it will keep me warm,” Tony said as he pulled it on. He watched as Gibbs pulled other things from the box: photos, DVDs, books. And finally the letter, which he placed in front of Tony.

“Remember when I told you that I got caught up in an explosion?”

Touching his forehead, Tony winced. “We must have a dangerous job.”

“It can be. But it’s a job we both love because we’re taking the bad guys off the street and making the world a safer place.”

“When were you in the explosion?”

“It was about nine and a half years ago. You were on the backup team. I was in a coma for several days. When I woke up, I had forgotten the past fifteen years.”

“I remember you telling me about it. I don’t actually remember it,” Tony admitted.

“I didn’t feel solid enough to do my job, so I went down to Mexico. I remembered Mike a little bit. He’d been my partner at NCIS for a few years. I just had to get away. Over the summer, most of my memories returned, and so did I.”

“You said I was your senior field agent. I ran the team while you were gone, right?”

“Yeah, you did,” Gibbs confirmed. “You did a great job. I was proud of you, but I always had a strange feeling around you. You were always so sad and I didn’t understand why.” Reaching out, Gibbs clasped his hand over Tony’s. “I didn’t remember our relationship.”

Tony nodded, his eyes glancing over the photos laid across the table.

“I started dating again, and noticed it only made you more sullen. I had no idea why. Then the day came when we saw your car blown up. We were all in MTAC watching the traffic cams’ live feed. Director Shepard had just explained that you’d been on an undercover assignment and she’d just received an emergency text from you, but you weren’t answering your cell phone.”

“I don’t remember.”

“It’s a painful memory, I’m sure. We all thought you died. Jenny let us think that. Then one day, I found this box in my closet. It had your name on it. I went through all the memories it contained and I started to remember. And you’d written this,” he said as he pushed the unsealed envelope closer to Tony.

Picking it up, Tony pulled out the letter and began to read it. When he was done he folded it up and put it back into the envelope. “Wow,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

“I found your file one day when I was covering for Director Vance. I called Ducky up to the office and he filled in the blanks. You’d already asked to be reassigned. When your car blew up, you weren’t in it. But you called the director and asked her to cover up your death, and send you secretly undercover out of the country. Ducky faked the death certificate.”

“And no one else knew. That’s quite a story.”

“We had a funeral. There’s even a grave and a tombstone. We could go visit it if you’d like.”

Tony shook his head. “That would be too weird.”

“Director Shepard reassigned you to Argentina, to assist MI6. You worked undercover with Reeves. Since it was MI6, no one in NCIS had a reason to go poking around the mission. Torres was down there and met you both. Reeves confirmed that you both thought Torres was undercover, but you’d agreed not to reveal yourself to him.”

“So, Torres did know me? And Reeves, too?”

“Yeah. They both said you would hang out on this beach, and were usually sad. When they asked, you would always say you lost your true love and just couldn’t move forward.”

Tony looked up hesitantly, their eyes meeting. “I guess we were close. And I must have missed you a lot.”

“Torres thought a trip to take you back to the beach could help you regain your memories. Ducky has agreed.”

“Will Ducky be there, too?”

“Yeah. Torres remembers where you liked to stand, and what you said. Ducky will be there for any medical issues, or to answer any medical questions.”

“Ducky really kept this a secret from everyone for all these years?”

“Yes, he did. He was following orders. I can’t blame him for that.” Gibbs dug through the stack of photos he had put together to show Tony. He pulled out the pictures of Pride and LaSalle and set them on the table, pointing to them as he said their names. “LaSalle was there, too. He was your undercover contact and would visit you down in Argentina. Then Pride found out LaSalle was going off to Argentina and suspected something was up.”

“So you got blown up and were in a coma. Then my car got blown up and you all thought I was dead, but I really just took a new assignment out of the country. And then I got kidnapped, blown up and wound up in a coma,” Tony confirmed with a bemused shake of his head. “Three explosions, two comas and a fake funeral.”

“That about sums it up, other than the memory issues.”

Shifting in his seat, Tony looked Gibbs up and down. “But your memories returned.”

“Eventually. Let’s take the trip and see if an outing to the beach will jog your memories.”

“Sure,” Tony agreed. “Why not?”

*********

The group was able to tag along on a military cargo plane as far as São Paulo. Clayton had flown ahead to Buenos Aries and was able to borrow a small plane owned by MI6 to transport the group the rest of the way from São Paulo. He’d also arranged for hotel rooms. For convenience, Gibbs decided to share a room with Ducky and put Torres and Tony together. The group met for dinner and took an evening stroll. 

After a good night’s sleep, Clayton met the group for breakfast and brought over the rest of Tony’s things that were still at the MI6 apartment for storage. Tony smiled and reached for the guitar.

“I remember this,” he said as he tuned the instrument and began strumming a song.

“Did you play for Esmerelda?” asked Gibbs.

Tony paused thoughtfully, then replied, “I think so. She spoke a little English and I spoke a little Spanish. We made do. She liked to sing and had a pretty voice.”

“Who is Esmerelda?” Torres asked.

“Not sure,” replied Gibbs. “Tony had a memory of her. I’m pretty sure it’s a memory from Argentina. Does the name sound familiar to you?” he asked, directed at Clayton.

“No. Tony didn’t hang out with any women that I ever knew about. He spent a lot of time alone, or with the UC from New Orleans when he visited.”

Gibbs nodded. “LaSalle.”

Turning to Tony, Clay said, “MI6 held your Mustang for NCIS. It was never picked up, so it’s still in the carpark of my old apartment building. MI6 still uses the apartment for my replacements. The agents agreed to loan the Mustang to us for the day. I thought it might help spark some memories. Are you feeling up to driving, Tony?”

Putting down his juice glass, Tony nodded. “I think so. It’s been a while, but I’m sure I can remember how.”

“Like riding the proverbial bicycle,” Ducky said encouragingly.

Clayton tossed the keys across the table. “Red Mustang convertible, black top.”

Torres and Gibbs rode with Tony, while Ducky rode with Clayton and another MI6 agent who drove a dark sedan. 

Torres rode up front and pointed out the route to Tony. “Does it seem familiar at all?” he asked.

“A little, I think,” Tony replied as he smoothly navigated a hairpin turn. “This feels right. This car. This road. I can imagine just going out for a drive to clear my head.”

“You did. You told me that you loved driving around with the top down, weather permitting. Then one day, you stumbled onto this beach. It was out of the way and isn’t good for swimming. You liked coming here to think. I did, too.”

“That’s how we met?”

“No, we met at a bar, through Clayton. I saw you here at the beach one day and we talked. You told me you were holding onto a past that didn’t want you anymore. You wanted to let go and walk away, but couldn’t bring yourself to do that.”

“Did I tell you who I was missing?”

“Not really. You said you’d lost your true love. I honestly didn’t know it was a man. You never said. That’s where you would always park,” said Torres as he pointed to a smooth turnoff area.

Tony parked the car. The group waited as the dark sedan pulled up next to them. Torres motioned for Tony to walk ahead, while he followed close behind and pointed out places Tony would tend to stand or sit, and where he was when they first spoke on the beach.

“You liked to stand here and would look out across the water for hours,” said Nick.

Tony removed his shoes and placed them aside. “I like feeling the sand between my toes and the water washing over my feet.”

“You were always barefoot on the beach. That is true,” Torres confirmed.

The pair walked down to the waterfront where Tony could stand with the waves lapping over his feet before receding. He’d rolled up his cuffs so they wouldn’t get too wet. “It is a good place to think. Quiet.”

They stood for a long while, watching as the waves crashed across the shore. Tony had his hands shoved into his pockets. After a while, he began walking and looked back up to the road. Squatting down, he dug his fingers into the beach, then used his index finger to swirl images in the sand.

“I’m getting some spotty images. I remember being here one day, and a bunch of guys showed up. It was unusual. They grabbed me and I remember shoving sand into my pockets. I don’t really know why. I think I just wanted to remember this place.”

“Pockets full of sand,” said Gibbs. “You repeated that in the hospital a few times. You must have been remembering being on the beach, and being abducted.”

After a while, Tony returned to the car to grab the guitar Reeves had returned to him. He found a boulder to sit on and began strumming out a familiar tune as he looked out across the beach and the water. “_Well, I keep holdin' on to yesterday…_”

They remained at the beach for over two hours before returning to town for lunch. Tony handed the keys to the Mustang back to Clayton. A somber quietness washed across him, leaving the others concerned, but not wanting to pry.

After they ate, Tony booted up the computer Reeves had held onto for him. He spent over an hour scanning through documents. There was a packet of photos, too, including one with him and his mother, but also several with him and Gibbs, and a few from his college and prep school days. But it was the stories he had written, his memories, that struck his heart.

In the afternoon, he asked Clayton if he could borrow the Mustang again, then asked Gibbs if he would go back to the beach with him. Torres insisted on going along to make sure they didn’t get lost, but he agreed to wait by the car to give them some privacy.

Gibbs followed Tony down to the beach and watched as he removed his shoes, rolled up his pant legs and shoved his hands into his pockets before staring across the water.

“It’s peaceful here,” said Gibbs. 

“I looked over the things Reeves put into storage for me. He said he’d cleared them from the apartment when I went missing. He said LaSalle brought over the guitar and a few other things. I can see how sad I was. I wrote about coming here, almost wishing my memories would wash out to sea. I didn’t want to be sad anymore, but I didn’t want to let go of the memories. I can see how much we cared for each other. I wrote down a lot of stories of us together. Like how we got together in the first place and how good we were together.”

“I don’t normally apologize, but I am very sorry that I lost my memories of you; of us. It wasn’t until you were gone that my memories came back and I missed you so much. I was kicking myself for letting you go, for not remembering.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” said Tony, his eyes focused on the horizon.

“Felt like it was.”

“I came here almost every single day. And I would remember us being together. I knew I would never find that again.”

Gibbs stepped closer and placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Maybe you can.”

“What do you mean?”

Looking Tony in his eyes, Gibbs asked, “Are you willing to try?”

“I’m not sure I want to…”

Pulling Tony into a hug, Gibbs cradled Tony’s head in the palm of his hand. “I wish you’d give us a chance. Please at least think about it, okay? My memories came back eventually. Yours may, too. But you’re still you and I’m still me. Maybe we can rediscover what we had before. I’m willing to try, if you are.”

Choking back a tear, Tony hugged Gibbs back. “Sorry, I thought you were saying I should date someone else. I know that no one else will come close to what we had. I loved you so much that I could never just let you go. It’s written all over the stories and memories I wrote.”

“They say that true love never dies.”

“When I was being held captive, I remember an image of you coming to me and telling me to keep holding on. You kept telling me not to let go. That’s why I wouldn’t. I know I wrote in the letter that I didn’t want you to come find me. But really, I think I did. I wanted you to love me again, but was afraid that you never would.”

“If I’d known you were still alive when my memories returned, I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth. Once I saw the file, I brought Ducky in to tell me everything. When he confirmed you were alive, I was determined to find you. The whole team helped.”

“I’m glad you did.”

“Even if you didn’t ever remember me, I was never going to walk away. I will be there for you, no matter what. I promise. I love you, Tony. I want to be a part of your life.”

“Maybe when we get back home, we can read through my stories together. It’s kind of sad because you didn’t remember me at the time, but I can tell how much I loved and missed you. I’d really like to try again, with you. I want to rediscover what we once had together.”

“I’d like that, too. A lot. It’s a date,” said Gibbs as he wrapped an arm around Tony’s shoulder, pulling him into a hug.

~~~The End~~~

08/14/2019  
© 2019 by Jacie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to all those who read through the story, I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> And a huge thank you to Rose_Malmaison for all her beta help throughout, and to Red_Pink_Dots for her fantastic artwork that so perfectly captures sad and distraught Tony. 
> 
> This story was written for the 2019 NCIS Big Bang Challenge hosted at https://ncis-bang.livejournal.com with a sister community at https://ncis-bigbang.dreamwidth.org

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for Holding On by Jacie](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20924492) by [Red_Pink_Dots](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Red_Pink_Dots/pseuds/Red_Pink_Dots)


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